


Circuit

by ALWrites, baeconandeggs



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Gangs, M/M, Open Relationship, Smut, Threesome, Violence, referenced abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALWrites/pseuds/ALWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs
Summary: There was something about Chanyeol that made Baekhyun sweat





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** BAE091  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
>   

Baekhyun likes to watch clocks, watch as each second dies. It’s another moment gone. Another moment wasted. He can only dream of giving his minutes meaning when he’s stuck as a waiter for a man that pays him in negative numbers. 

The diner he works in is tacky, with metal plaques covering the walls and random ornaments hanging from the ceiling on hooks that are losing their grip. Sometimes he watches the ones that swing when the door opens and closes, hoping they’ll fall on a head or two. The decoration is not as stuffy as the air, though. Krager, the man he works for, hasn’t fixed the kitchen extractor fans in six months. Everything he inhales is heavy with grease and salt. Outside there is only pollution of a different kind. 

Baekhyun also likes to watch the door. Tens of people come in and out, all of them faces he’ll never see again but will inexplicably remember for his dreams months later. Sometimes, he prays for the police to come in and arrest his boss. Krager is a shady guy. There’s no way he’s clean. Other times he prays for a cute guy or girl, one he can approach and give free doughnuts to. But most of the time, he craves something exciting – _anything_ – to break up the monotonous pouring of coffee and ringing of the till. 

“Yeah, I’ll take a black coffee and a hot filled sandwich with a side of fries.” 

When Baekhyun first moved here for an unrealistic attempt at college, he had a hard time unpicking the strong twang of the southern accents. That was two years ago, and he is still a stranger here. He doesn’t know why he never left. Time just keeps dying on him. 

“Sure thing,” he says, punching it into the register and announcing the total. The guy pays, an easy customer, and Baekhyun presents him his coffee on a tray with cutlery and a wooden spoon scribed with his order number. 

“Thanks, doll.” He looks awfully pleased with himself as he goes to find a table. 

Baekhyun doesn’t react. The few times he did, Krager almost fired him for putting off customers. Instead, he scribbles down the order and leaves it in the serving hatch that joins to the kitchen, ringing the small bell so Krager knows there’s an order waiting. His arm stings, muscles cramping from the strife of endless repetition. 

Baekhyun gives Krager five minutes to acknowledge the order, aware that the customer keeps looking over to see where his food is, before he goes to find him. He checks the break room first, where Krager always smokes a cig under the ‘ _It is illegal to smoke on these premises_ ’ sign and drinks himself drunk by three o’clock. Baekhyun finds him sprawled across the one couch they have. There’s a Krager-sized dent in it now where the cushioning has flattened to almost nothing. He has his ash tray sitting on his large, round stomach, occasionally tapping off the end of his stick. 

“Krager,” Baekhyun calls from the doorway, folding his arms. “You need to be in the kitchen.” 

Krager sneers at him like he’s interrupted something important. “I’m takin’ my break.” 

“You’ve been on your break for an hour.” 

“Yeah, that’s how long my break is.” 

“You have an order.” 

Krager chuckles, stomach wobbling as he repositions himself to sit up straighter. “No. _You_ have an order, darlin’.” 

Sometimes, Baekhyun wants to lock Krager inside the diner and set it on fire. He imagines himself sitting on the bonnet of his boss’ ‘69 Dodge Monaco in the car park, a beer in one hand and a skewer of marshmallows in the other that he can toast against the flames. With how unsafe the kitchen is, Baekhyun can think of at least five ways to make it look like an accident. He never stops wanting to get away. 

Indignantly, he prepares the sandwich and the side of fries. The customer shouts at him from the counter asking why it’s taking so long. Baekhyun pretends he doesn’t hear him over the sizzling oil, arm stiff as he works the fryer. 

“You think you’re better than me, huh?” Krager appears beside him. “Move over.” 

Baekhyun winces at the shove Krager delivers, his hand dropping and copping a feel of Baekhyun’s ass before it takes hold of the fryer. Baekhyun thinks about quitting almost daily. Every day is the same. He comes into work at eight in the morning and leaves fourteen hours later. Krager keeps his tips and treats him like shit, but it’s this or the streets. This or going hungry, pissing in alleyways, sleeping in the doorways of closed shops and getting laughed at by drunk teenagers at 4:00AM. There is no alternative option. 

Tuesdays are always slow, especially at the start of summer. The weather is warm, and the sun is strong. No one wants to be stuck inside a diner with only the highway interchange to look at. It’s not that close, but Baekhyun is able to distinguish one moving car from another. The world seems so far away. Time seems to have frozen. With the diner clock currently face-down on the counter, batteries dead, Baekhyun is using footfall to determine the hour. It doesn’t really work. 

He cleans for most of the day, throwing mouldy food out from the pantry and scrubbing sticky patches off tables. He’s mopping the tiles when the door opens and someone strides in, boots heavy, leaving large dusty footprints where Baekhyun has already cleaned. It excites him, strangely. There will still be something to do after the customer leaves. 

“Hi there,” Baekhyun says, propping his mop up in the bucket and slipping under the counter to get behind the till. “How can I help?” 

The man roams his face for a moment, then smiles. “I got a list,” he says, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. 

Baekhyun takes it, reading down the lines of food and drink. He eyes the empty space to the left and right. “This all for you?” 

“God no, my friends are just trailin’ behind.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, smile lazily pulled to one side as he leans down to rest his elbow on the counter. 

“Right.” Baekhyun starts punching it into the register. Four cokes. Three waters. Five people want burgers. Someone wants a salad. “You paying separately?” 

At the mention of money, the customer goes digging through his jacket pockets, long curls falling into his eyes when he looks down to examine the pile of scrunched-up notes in his hands. “Nah, I got this one. It’s my turn to pay. This place expensive?” He grins, framed by dimples, and Baekhyun smiles at him. 

“We’re fairly mid-range here. Not too bad of a deal.” 

The customer nods, handing over the cash when Baekhyun announces the total. “I can relate to that, bein’ mid-range,” he says smugly, leaning back against the bar when he turns at the arrival of his friends. Baekhyun feels heat creep up his neck. There are eight of them in total, dressed in denim if not leather. The group of motorbikes on the parking lot that weren’t there before confirms to Baekhyun that they’re bikers. 

Sunglasses are adjusted as they step into the dim light of the diner, some pushing them up into their hair, others peering over the top of them with bowed chins. Baekhyun doesn’t stare. He puts the ticket in the window and rings the bell, then starts working on the drinks. 

“You can take a seat and I’ll bring these over to you,” he says, eyes then following the customer’s hand as it runs through his shoulder length curls. 

“Thanks.” He pats the counter before pushing himself off, sauntering like a lazy cat over to where his friends have settled across a few booths. Baekhyun turns his back on them, pulling glasses from the cupboard and hooking them under the drink pumps one at a time. He rings the bell again, reaching across with one hand. 

“I heard you the first time,” Krager grumbles, snatching the ticket off the counter and glaring at it. “This is a big order. Come help me with it.” 

“I can’t, I’m doing the drinks.” 

Krager slaps down the ticket and looks at him, disgruntled. “Excuse me? I said you need to help me with this, so you’re gonna come help me.” 

“Thought I wasn’t good enough to be in the kitchen?” Baekhyun almost overfills a glass with his attention divided. 

“Say goodbye to your pay, sunshine.” Krager shrugs, disappearing into the kitchen so Baekhyun can’t snap back. His chest goes cold and he fumbles to turn off the pump. He’s only done half the drinks, but ultimately it is either unhappy customers or an unhappy landlord. Baekhyun can’t be late on his rent again. Never does he feel like he’s winning. 

He ditches the drinks and works alongside Krager in the kitchen, which is about as successful as asking a snail to stand on its hind legs. For someone who enjoys bossing others around, Krager goes quiet, then gets angry when Baekhyun doesn’t do the right thing. 

“If you spoke to me, I’d know what you want me to do.” 

“Don’t get sassy with me, boy,” is all he gets in response. 

When they’re ready to serve up, Baekhyun steps out and finds his customer serving his own drinks. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. We needed extra help in the kitchen.” He moves to take over. The guy just shrugs and carries on. 

“No worries. I used to work at a bar. I know the protocol.” 

“A bar around here?” Baekhyun hasn’t had a pleasant conversation in a while. 

“Next state over. What about you? You don’t sound like you’re local.” 

Baekhyun opens his mouth to reply when Krager appears in the serving hatch. “We makin’ our customers serve themselves now?” 

Baekhyun doesn’t have a professional response for that besides a blank look and a noncommittal shrug. 

Krager grunts and apologises to their customer. Before Krager is completely out of earshot, the guy says, “I’ll help you take these over.” Baekhyun can’t help his mirth. 

“Your boss is a special kind of crazy,” the guy says when they reach the table. Hands grabs the glasses when Baekhyun sets the tray down, efficient. “You like workin’ here?” 

Baekhyun watches him as he sits down, aware of several pairs of eyes looking his way, ranging from wide, round ones to analysing slit ones. Baekhyun doesn’t develop crushes easily but he can appreciate all their good looks. He’d even go for the main guy if he knew him a little better. 

“You didn’t hear him dock my pay just now?” Voices travel easily across the diner, especially when it’s empty. Baekhyun lets his question sit in the air, answering for him, before he tells them he’ll be back with their food. 

He tries to busy himself while they eat. They’re a little rowdy – some fries become airborne and ketchup is squirted in someone’s drink – but there are tame personalities to cancel out the rambunctious. Baekhyun identifies three of them as the main pacifiers. One has round eyes, another a gummy grin, and the last one looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of Vogue. He envies their brotherhood, how they can easily throw arms around each other or bite at one another’s ears. They’re touchy but it’s almost cute. Baekhyun’s never been touched like that. 

Clearing their plates has him swept up in conversation. They pick up where Krager cut them off, Baekhyun explaining how he came here for college then couldn’t afford it. He gets his name as well. Chanyeol. Baekhyun misses him and he hasn’t left yet. 

“You guys just passing through?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol draws out, lounging back against the booth with his arms outstretched. “We’re just goin’ on a little road trip. Seein’ some sites. This is a beautiful country when you look hard enough.” 

Baekhyun snorts, wiping down the table. “Guess I need glasses.” 

“You’re witty. I like that. I’m surrounded by idiots on a daily basis so this is a nice refresher.” 

“Fuck you, Chanyeol,” someone grumbles. 

Chanyeol grins and tips his head back, curls falling away from his face. “Maybe later.” 

When they leave, the sun is setting behind the interchange and the streetlamp outside is blinking to life. It’s been a slow day, with only a couple of other customers coming in besides their group. Baekhyun feels a little bit empty watching them all file out the door. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” Chanyeol tips his head to him, slipping out the door just before it shuts so he doesn’t have to hold it open. 

Baekhyun stands there, staring at the empty diner, and gives a long-suffering sigh. He guesses that’s it. 

In the kitchen he sorts out the destruction Krager left behind, then does one final sweep of the shop floor before he heads to the break room to collect his things. 

“You embarrassed me today,” Krager snarls around a cigarette. 

Baekhyun can’t be bothered to argue. He’s tired and doesn’t want to ruin the good that happened today. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t talk back to me like that in front of customers again.” 

Baekhyun quickly shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Fine, I won’t.” Sometimes it’s not worth fighting back. Not all sinking ships can be saved. Baekhyun looks at Krager and sees an iceberg, jarring and cold, that tore a gash into his side the first day on the job and has been slowly dragging him down him ever since. 

“You damn rude, boy.” 

Baekhyun grabs his rucksack. “I’m sorry, Krager,” he says, turning around to face him. “Maybe if we hired another person things would be easier. I can’t cook, clean and serve all at the same time.” 

Krager shrugs. Baekhyun thinks he might have gotten through to him. “I’d have to half your pay if I did that.” Baekhyun sags. Nothing will ever change around here, no matter how many suggestions he makes. He wonders why he puts up with it, marvels at how they haven’t both resulted to violence yet. “How you gonna pay your rent then, huh?” 

It always comes down to money. The only numbers Baekhyun likes are the ones on clocks. They’re free, and they never run out while you’re alive. 

“Alright, well, just don’t expect me to be everywhere doing everything at once. I’m exhausted. And you need to communicate better, okay? I can’t read your mind.” He steps towards the door just as Krager gets off his chair and stands in his way. 

“You wouldn’t last on the streets.” He glares at Baekhyun, backing him into a corner to let him know he’s not finished. “You need me. More than I need you.” 

Baekhyun categorises this as a territorial display. Krager likes himself to be the dominant alpha male. He fancies himself in charge, in control. Baekhyun doesn’t agree with it, to being intimidated occasionally by a man who needs to belittle others to feel better, but it’s easier to let him do his thing. 

Most of the time. 

“You wouldn’t have a functioning diner if it wasn’t for me.” 

Krager’s face glows red and his eyebrows shoot up. “You say that again.” 

Eventually, Baekhyun’s back hits the wall. Krager isn’t taller than him, but he’s stronger, fatter. Baekhyun hasn’t punched anyone in his life but he thinks Krager has practise. The smoke from his cigarette burns the insides of Baekhyun’s nose as he fights to breathe. He feels sick. Small, too. 

“Krager—”

“You ain’t worth shit. You know that?” 

Baekhyun breaks eye contact, letting himself be pummelled by the words of an old, jealous man who wishes for miracles but doesn’t go out to make them happen. 

“You’re just a sad, little nobody who don’t matter to no one. I’m doin’ you a service, lettin’ you work here with that shit résumé you applied with. Funny how you thought college would work out for you. But you don’t need a college education to work at a diner, do you, boy? ‘Cause that’s all you’re ever gonna do, right here, with me.” 

His heart breaks at nothing but the truth. Krager knows how to weed through the cracks of his mind to strangle the hopeful seedling within. He does need the money. He wouldn’t survive if he was homeless. He _does_ need the job and the diner and Krager. Whenever Baekhyun looks up he sees a tiny pinprick of light swamped by darkness. It gets smaller every day. 

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

The lump in his throat gets so big that it’s painful to swallow. Baekhyun nods to make up for his lack of voice, until he manages a feeble but stable, “Okay,” and has blinked his eyes enough to thin the oncoming tears. 

Krager sizes him up, puffs smoke into his face. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” 

Baekhyun nods, then whirls around faster than his legs can carry him. He shuts off the lights at the front of the diner and locks up the kitchen. The streetlamp outside has given up by the time Baekhyun is trying to lock the front door. Trying to fit the key is just a metaphor for everything that’s going wrong. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, losing the strength in his arms and leaning forwards against the door. Attempting to keep the breakdown at bay, he scrunches up his face and focuses his energy into a few pained grunts until he redirects it into his hands again. They wobble and they’re clammy. Eventually, he drops his keys and stands there on the brink of crying. Things haven’t been this bad in a while. This was due. 

“Hey there.” 

Baekhyun freezes, ice splintering up his arms and down his back. The voice is familiar and so is the face, after Baekhyun turns around. He takes in Chanyeol and his seven biker buddies, stood there with his hip cocked out and his arms folded. 

“I got a proposition for you.” 

Baekhyun’s hair is thoroughly windswept by the time he stumbles off Chanyeol’s bike. His heart pounds against this chest like the stubborn passing of time, lungs sizzling with the exhaust fumes that sprung out behind them the whole way. At some point, his hands became too sweaty to grip onto Chanyeol’s leather jacket. Chanyeol’s waist had been the only option after that. Maybe that’s why Chanyeol is smirking at him now, looking pleased and excited with an unfitting childlike innocence for the crowd he’s with. 

Baekhyun struggles to regain his breath after having the wind shoved down his throat, panting to catch his diaphragm up to his lungs. They’ve stopped at the side of a quiet road. There’s a thick fur forest that hugs the hills, banking down towards where Baekhyun can hear a river. In the dark he can hardly see, except for the pools of light bursting from the headlamp on Chanyeol’s Harley. It’s not a cheap bike, and somehow Chanyeol doesn’t strike him as a secret rich kid on the run. 

He expects to feel uncomfortable but instead is surprisingly unphased. Baekhyun can hardly remember the abrupt conversation he and Chanyeol shared in the parking lot, brief but strangely heartfelt, like maybe Chanyeol could see the tears in his eyes and took responsibility for them. 

“We’re going on a wild goose chase. Want in?” 

Baekhyun didn’t waste a second before answering. “ _I want in_.” 

And he’s _in_ now. He is a part of whatever this is. Strangely enough, it feels better than financial security. 

When Chanyeol pops a tent out from the storage of his bike seat, he pokes Baekhyun in the leg with the toe of his boot to get his attention. “Wanna bunk with me?” 

Baekhyun nods. “Sure.” They seem well prepared. Baekhyun knows a few names already, recognising Kyungsoo as the guy with the gas hotplate and Jongdae as the one with the bottled water and extravagant cowboy hat. Jongdae seems like the leader, giving out orders and keeping people in check. Baekhyun didn’t get the rest of the names. It was hard to hear Chanyeol when his voice was lost to the sixty-mile-an-hour wind. 

“How you holdin’ up?” Chanyeol asks, holding the tent out for Baekhyun to take. Baekhyun slots it over his shoulder, stepping aside as Chanyeol grabs the handlebars to his bike and starts steering it away from the road edge. 

“Fine.” Baekhyun stares at the ground, wishing he could see where he’s putting his feet. “You ever get something that you’ve wanted for so long and feel like you deserve, that when you get it, you’re not even excited because you feel like you should have had it all along? This feels like that. Feels right. I’ve been sitting in that diner for months waiting for something like this to happen. Kinda like a dream, I guess.” 

Chanyeol hisses out a curse when his foot slips, then he laughs at himself. “I kinda get what you’re sayin’. I’m glad you think so anyways. I like makin’ dreams come true.” Baekhyun catches Chanyeol’s wink and stores it in his pocket for later. 

Eventually they stop at a level piece of ground. Chanyeol props his bike up and throws a layer of tarp over it before he turns to help Baekhyun tackle the tent. In place of sleeping bags and pillows they have a thin sheet of nylon. It’s not ideal, but it’s an experience. 

“So where we going?” Baekhyun speaks up. It’s currently just the two of them, the others gathered around Kyungsoo and his cooking station further along the bank. Looks like dinner is canned beans and spaghetti shapes in tomato sauce. Better than greasy burgers and fries any day. 

“We’re goin’ to find our friend, so we’re headed wherever he’s headed. Jongdae does the navigation. I just follow along.” Chanyeol wrestles with a tent pole. “He’s after some people that did him wrong, took some of his money. We’re just followin’ to make sure he’s alright and doesn’t get into trouble. He don’t know we’re comin’ but,” Chanyeol shrugs, bending down to thrust the end of the pole through the sleeve that’ll arch out into the roof, “he’s one of us. We don’t like lettin’ people fight their battles without support, you know? We’re brothers.” He successfully feeds the pole through to the diagonal corner and grins at Baekhyun. “But sometimes we ain’t brothers, ‘cause that’d make things weird.” 

Baekhyun can only guess at what that means. They’re called to eat not long after and Baekhyun is introduced to the rest of the gang. Sehun, the one with the narrowed eyes, keeps watching him, while Jongdae is very interested in his past. Baekhyun doesn’t share the whole sob story. He keeps it simple. 

“My mom was a single parent. My dad left when I was sixteen and he was our only source of income so we were pretty screwed. But I got a job and applied to colleges, then I got stuck working in the diner.” 

Chanyeol clumsily raises his beer. “To everythin’ goin’ to shit.” 

Baekhyun laughs, toasting to it along with everyone else. 

“When we drop you back home, you wanna go to your mom’s place or back to the diner?” It’s later. They’re in the tent, lying on their backs side by side. Baekhyun has never slept beside someone before, hasn’t felt the warmth of someone else’s body or been reassured by their breathing. Baekhyun asked Chanyeol if he snored. Chanyeol said no. 

“I don’t know. When are you gonna drop me home?” 

Chanyeol somehow shrugs lying down. Baekhyun feels him move. “I don’t know. Whenever we reach our final destination, I guess. You got time to think about it.” 

Baekhyun nods, staring at the small net square where the two tent poles cross over. He can almost make out the trees above him, maybe a few stars. “Do you guys do this a lot? Sleep on the side of the road, I mean.” 

“Not always. Depends where we are. Sometimes we get motel rooms or stay with friends. Today we were delayed so we couldn’t reach the closest town.” 

“Delayed?” Baekhyun looks over at him. Chanyeol looks nice with his hair tied back, his curls gathered in a small ponytail at the base of his skull. A few have escaped, wisps against his forehead. Baekhyun wants to wind them around his fingers. 

“Had to pick up a stray.” Chanyeol grins. Baekhyun rolls his eyes. At least he’s not the runt. “But it’s not bad. The weather’s always warm this time of year and we get no rain. All we have to worry about is the snakes.” 

Baekhyun glares at him. “What?” 

Chanyeol’s smile gleams in the dark. “Just kiddin’.” 

The roar of Chanyeol’s engine becomes the soundtrack to Baekhyun’s days, the music of an adventure. Every morning he is swamped with uncertainty. Not knowing what’s going to happen, not knowing where he’ll end up next. Baekhyun loves it, never having felt more alive. Suddenly, the world is at his fingertips, and it is thanks to the man he holds onto every day as the wind whips through his hair and his stomach presses against his spine. They’re a pack of strays, gallivanting into endless horizons, finding a home in the places people overlook. 

For the second time in his life, Baekhyun crosses a state border. There are no brick walls blocking him in, no chain-link fence, only a sign that asks them to drive carefully during their onward journey. He sails into unknown places cheering and hooting, arms high in the air and the wind in his clothes. 

Thankfully, they stop at a motel a few days later. Baekhyun gets to shower, properly brush his teeth and use an actual toilet. In a way, he feels reborn. 

“Yo.” Chanyeol swings himself around the door without warning. Baekhyun barely manages to cover himself with a towel in time. “Got you some new clothes.” He throws across folded denim that Baekhyun attempts to catch one-handed, not missing Chanyeol’s sweeping eyes or his smirk when he checks him out. 

“Thanks.” He holds the clothes to his chest, looking over them briefly. “Is double denim in this season?” 

Chanyeol grins at him, leaning against the doorway. “It’s always in season on the right body.” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, turning away to hide his blush. It’s nice to be complimented, even if it’s a little inappropriate. A few days with Chanyeol has told Baekhyun a lot about his character. He’d never do anything to make him uncomfortable. Semi-nudity is the extent of their boundaries. 

“I got you the essentials: toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, a few extra clothes and a razor. We grow pretty crazy beards out on the road.” 

Baekhyun catches his own smile in the reflection of the mirror. It’s something else he can try out for the first time. 

The motel they stay at four days later doesn’t have a mirror, but when Baekhyun runs his hand over his jaw he can feel stubble. He uses one of Chanyeol’s wing mirrors after that, monitoring his progress. The shelter of a gas station at a desert crossroads shows him that it’s coming through patchy, but he’ll keep going until he knows for sure. 

It’s the sixth time they’ve stopped for gas. Tonight will be the eighth motel they’ve stayed at. 

“How do you guys afford all this?” Baekhyun asks Jongdae, their navigator and also the guy stood closest to him. Jongdae has a steely personality. He beholds Baekhyun with skeptical, calculating eyes, shaded by his Stetson. 

“Savin’s,” he says, then pointedly ends the conversation by turning his back and walking away. Baekhyun figures it’s as simple as that. 

“Do you like the stars?” 

Baekhyun opens his eyes. It’s hard not to drift off when the meadow grass is so comfortable. They’re deep in the countryside, far from concrete, steel and thick curtains of smog. Around him is nothing but lush greenery. The most Baekhyun has ever experienced of wildlife is the flies he has to swat in the kitchen before they land on the food. 

The sky is a bruised indigo, Chanyeol’s fingers a black shadow as he stretches his palm up towards the moon. Baekhyun smiles, lacing his hands together on his stomach and letting himself relax. Time feels like it’s standing still. Or, it just doesn’t matter. Seconds are no longer dying but breathing life into whatever comes next. 

“On clear nights like this you can see constellations so well.” Chanyeol sighs, dropping his hand and laying it amongst the dandelions, their petals closed for the night. “You know the big dipper, right? That’s the one that looks like a pan. You see it?” 

Baekhyun admires it quietly. “I see it.” 

“Yeah. Five stars for the handle, four for the pan. Most other constellations are just zigzags. Orion and Cygnus are squiggles.” 

“You like astronomy?” Baekhyun turns to him, feels his heart flutter. Days spent waking up to Chanyeol’s face and riding beside him wherever the road goes has left him giddy whenever they make eye contact. 

Chanyeol grunts. “I stole a book from the library in high school. I find it interestin’. I bet there are other things lookin’ at the same stars, but I wonder if the constellations are different where they are. The angles would be weird.” 

“Makes me feel small,” Baekhyun comments, wondering how his problems ever felt so big when he’s an insignificant speck in a giant nothing. Relative to the sun, his life will last a millisecond. He’s spent too much of it worrying. “Like I’m struggling for nothing.” 

Chanyeol turns to look at him, eyes blinking lazily. Baekhyun feels winded for a second before he reels himself in. 

“We go through so much pain just to live. Then, we die. Doesn’t seem fair.” 

Silence rests over them. Baekhyun waits while Chanyeol conjures up a reply. 

“Livin’ ain’t so bad,” he concludes. “Sometimes, you feel powerless. You get stuck some place with people you hate. But if you’re lookin’ at everythin’ just to point out how painful it is, you’re missin’ the good stuff. There’s more to life than wonderin’ what bad thing’ll happen next. You gotta have courage. Make life what you want.” 

It’s a nice idea, a mirage of freedom. Only, Baekhyun can’t afford to do whatever he wants with his life. Sometimes, there is only the bad no matter how closely he looks. 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Doesn’t have to be complicated.” 

Baekhyun sighs. If happiness and delight were an illness, Chanyeol would be the one sneezing on everyone and spreading it around. 

“Sometimes the good things aren’t big. They can just be the rain startin’ as soon as you get home, or the bus runnin’ just as late as you are. But they’re still good things. Little signs from whoever is watchin’ over us that it’s not all bad down here. Can be a hoot sometimes if you know how to party.” 

He breathes in Chanyeol’s innocent wisdom. Whether things are simple or not will always come down to the depth of scope. Baekhyun has been compulsively overanalysing things for a while. Maybe his brain isn’t built for detail, but for the broad. 

Still, his perceptions are shifting. The stars glimmer above him as he thinks of what Chanyeol said earlier. The big dipper might look like the big dipper to them, but to some other being a million miles away it could just be another zigzag in the sky. 

Chanyeol lets out a breath beside him and it sends tremors through his body. Baekhyun hasn’t gotten this close to anyone else in the group. Something pulls him towards Chanyeol, maybe his personality, his smile, maybe it’s even the person who sits in the clouds, but when Baekhyun looks at him next he wonders if this is what it is to like someone, for him, at least. 

The search for Chanyeol’s friend starts with a lead they find in a dive bar. She’s the bar tender and a mutual friend. Jongdae leans against the counter and sweet talks her into revealing everything she knows. 

“Been a long time since I seen you around,” she says. 

Jongdae shrugs. “I’m sorry, sugar. Thought if I stayed too close to you my feelin’s would grow too strong. Was just protectin’ my fragile heart.” 

“Please,” she scoffs. “What d’you wanna know?” 

Baekhyun doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Chanyeol drags him over to the booth Kyungsoo has adopted and coerces him into ordering food. He debates between popcorn chicken and nachos while Kyungsoo clucks his tongue in distaste. 

“When will we ever eat some place decent, huh? I’m sick of this greasy shit.” 

Chanyeol grunts, the table his drum as he taps out a beat. “We can go somewhere nice after we find Yixing.” 

“Yixing?” Baekhyun perks up. 

Kyungsoo stares at him, then stares at Chanyeol. Baekhyun would think he looked worried if he wasn’t used to his eyes being so wide on the daily. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol picks up the conversation, “our friend. He’s the guy we’re tryin’ to find.” 

“We’ve known him for years,” Kyungsoo interjects, somewhat out of the blue. Baekhyun turns to him and almost shies away from his intense gaze. “He took off recently to catch up to a guy who did him bad. Didn’t say goodbye, just left.” He drops his glassy eyes back to the menu, sombre. “I know what I’m having. You guys decided? It’s Sehun’s turn to buy so I’ll go let him know.” 

Baekhyun struggles to reply. That was too much emotion for small talk. Yixing and Kyungsoo must have been close. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, tapping the menu. “Get me a cheeseburger, alright?” 

“Sure.” Kyungsoo turns his eyes to Baekhyun. “You?” 

He freezes for a second, not used to the other guys addressing him directly. For the past week or so they’ve been communicating to him through Chanyeol, albeit not often. 

“Popcorn chicken, please.” 

His manners seem to amuse Kyungsoo, who sniggers, smirks and slides out of the booth. 

“Why are you so polite?” Chanyeol teases, knocking into him. 

“Shut up.” 

Baekhyun doesn’t know Junmyeon that well, but he still feels bad for not getting him a present. They celebrate his twenty-eighth birthday with a barbecue organised by Minseok and Jongin, on a hill overlooking the lake of the national park they break into and light an illegal bonfire. At least Chanyeol is diligently on standby with a bucket of water in case it spreads. 

Despite being a loose cog in their brotherhood now, Baekhyun still envies it. He hasn’t grown as close to the others as much as he thought he would. Granted, it’s only been a few weeks, but none of them are as welcoming as Chanyeol. Chanyeol includes him in things, asks his opinion, gets to know him. Everyone else gives him awkward smiles and nods on their way past, never stopping to start a conversation. He’s starting to wonder if he’s the problem. It’s usually the case. 

Their surroundings are serene, crystal water glittering under a sun in an orange sky as it sets in the east. The woods are tranquil and the trees sigh with the breeze, birds singing a song before they settle down to sleep. Baekhyun forgot that butterflies and honeybees existed, having lived in the city for so long. He even saw a wild deer on the walk down. 

“Hey, you.” 

Baekhyun turns around. Jongdae is talking to him. 

“Wanna give me a hand with this?” He’s unpacking their eight-man tent. Baekhyun’s only mildly worried about spending the night here. Provided they don’t set anything on fire, they should be able to slip away at dawn before the park rangers arrive. 

“Sure,” he replies, jumping into action. Jongdae rarely acknowledges him so this is a privilege, a bonding exercise. Or a test. Together they spread out the polyester to form the blueprint of the tent, then start unfolding the poles and laying them down in place. 

“How you findin’ it out here?” 

Baekhyun doesn’t let his surprise show, but it wobbles through via his voice. “Oh, um, yeah, fine. Enjoying it, really. It’s refreshing. Every day is different.” 

“Damn straight. You think I’d still have these loonies followin’ me if I made ‘em do the same thing every day?” 

Baekhyun laughs politely. When making friends, it doesn’t matter if you find them funny or not. “I guessed you were in charge of all this. How’d you guys come to be?” 

“Well, I met Minseok at a local bar in my hometown. We started goin’ on drives and met Jongin and Kyungsoo. We met up every week, Sehun joined, and Junmyeon. Then we all decided to just take off and live on the road.” 

“What about Chanyeol?” 

“He came along later.” 

Baekhyun nods, cringing through a lull in the conversation. “So, um, I’m sorry I’m not really much help around here.” 

Jongdae laughs, not necessarily with him. “Don’t worry about that. You keep Chanyeol outta my hair, that’s more than enough. The kid’s crazy.” 

“Right,” Baekhyun chuckles. “How old is he? If you call him ‘kid’?” 

“Well, I’m thirty-five,” Jongdae replies. “We’re mostly in our late twenties, early thirties. Chanyeol’s twenty-three. Don’t know how old you are but I’m prayin’ your legal.” 

Baekhyun almost chokes on his spit. “Yeah, no, I’m twenty.” 

Baekhyun stops tent building when he feels Jongdae staring at him. He likes Jongdae a lot better when they’re not making eye contact. 

“No shit,” he breathes. “Guess I’d better start callin’ you ‘kid’ instead then, if you’re gonna stick around. Or I could call you ‘baby’ and keep up the ‘kid’ with Chanyeol.” 

Baekhyun likes the idea of a nickname, even if it is ‘baby’. He’ll take what he can get to feel like he belongs here. “You don’t mind if I stick around?” 

Jongdae shrugs, plugging in a pole. With one bend, the tent stands up and Baekhyun can’t see him anymore. The air becomes easier to breathe, and all he has to stare at now are the pegs as he secures the tent into the ground with a rock he found nearby as a hammer. 

“Not much I can do about it, but I don’t mind. None of us mind really. Chanyeol’s coverin’ your expenses.” 

Baekhyun’s stomach turns at that. “He is?” It makes him feel sick. Even here, where he thought normal world rules didn’t apply, he can’t escape money. 

“He don’t mind. He’s got a thing for you, right?” 

Baekhyun can feel his face burning. Jongdae chooses that moment to round the tent to look at him again, exaggerating his embarrassment tenfold. 

“Guess it sucks to be Sehun. He likes you too.” 

Baekhyun wishes the tent would collapse on him. His hand clamps down around the rock and he looks around, finding Sehun stood by the barbeque wearing nothing but a denim vest jacket and a pair of leather trousers. He’s barefoot and doesn’t even look stupid. 

“How’d you know?” Baekhyun can’t help but be curious. Validation interests him, excites him. He trusts Sehun more already, even if it makes no rational sense. 

“I know Sehun.” Jongdae grins at him. “But I had to tell him not to make a move.” 

“Why?” Baekhyun asks, then flushes at how eager he sounded. 

Jongdae doesn’t relish in his awkwardness like Baekhyun expects him to. Instead, he appears confused. “Aren’t you and Chanyeol fuckin’?” 

Baekhyun blanches. “ _What_?” 

“You guys spend a lot of time together, and I know Chanyeol likes you. I figured he’d have made a move by now. Was I wrong?” 

“Yeah, no, I…” Baekhyun stops functioning for a second, trying to get over the abrupt and blunt emotions that have been catapulted at him by that question. Is that what everyone thinks he’s been doing? Is that what he _should_ be doing? Is he abnormal for _not_ doing it? When he thinks of sleeping with Chanyeol, it makes his skin feel uncomfortable. He thinks he likes Chanyeol; he feels happy around him and wants to be with him. But sex? No. Right now, that’s too much. 

“That’s not really how I do things,” Baekhyun says, an explanation of sorts, brief and unconvincing. “I don’t just fuck people. I have to know them first. Properly. And trust them. It’s weird, I know.” 

“Whatever.” Jongdae shrugs, disinterested. Sometimes, Baekhyun wishes he were a more exciting person to know. “Let’s get this tent up, huh? I’m guessin’ food will be ready soon.” 

Baekhyun nods, slamming into a peg with more force than required. “Sure.” 

He can’t calm his thoughts after that. Him liking Chanyeol is a private matter, and he has to convince himself over the next hour that Jongdae doesn’t have a right to butt in on his business like that. It distracts him from the real take away of their conversation for far too long, until Baekhyun is sipping on a beer after a good burger, listening to Chanyeol playing a small guitar. His long curls are tied back, his toned stomach creasing where his muscles are as he sits there topless, strumming away without a pick. 

He’s gorgeous. And Chanyeol likes him. Baekhyun doesn’t know if it’s a blessing to be able to trust people so easily with your feelings or not, but he knows that he’ll trust Chanyeol at some point. He’s just waiting for the day when he wakes up and knows him well enough to do so. 

Baekhyun sees a clock for the first time in weeks at an old launderette two states over. It’s second hand isn’t working but the hour is creeping along to the thrum of washing machines, drums spinning so hard that the doors are about to take off. 

The guy who runs this place seems to be a friend of Jongin’s. A lucky break, seeing as they have no coins for the slots. They all switch into clean clothes and stuff their old ones in to wash, Baekhyun having been ushered into the customer toilet with Chanyeol where they changed side by side. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but to him it does. Chanyeol could look at him while he was half naked, smiling and joking, and not be put off by what he saw. 

Every time Baekhyun looks at him, he wants to try kissing him. He’s never dealt with these kinds of emotions before, the ones where you want to be close to someone, physically and mentally, longing for a sign that at least something is mutual. Sure, Jongdae gave him hope, but when he looks at Chanyeol, the carefree flirt that he is, Baekhyun can never pinpoint anything obvious. Chanyeol is kind to everyone. He treats everyone the same. There is no way Baekhyun is special. 

Outside, the roads bake in the sun, crackling under the wheels of Chanyeol’s Harley as they ride towards a low hanging sky. The flat terrain lets Baekhyun see for miles, small towns in the distance, tractors upturning farmland, even a depot full of yellow school buses. It’s weird to think that people have lives in these places, that there are people he will never meet in places he will never go. Even with the internet and phones the world is full of strangers. 

_The Sour Betty_ is the name of the next bar they venture into. Its interior is sticky and peeling, and the pool table is two balls off a complete set, but the darts work and there’s an old, busted jukebox still ringing out tunes from the eighties and nineties. Chanyeol asks him his poison, and Baekhyun responds with beer, eyes trailing the crowd as the regulars turn to look at them in disdain. There are only a few empty tables. Most are inhabited by old men with white hair and their young lady friends. Baekhyun can’t help but feel like he has invaded someone else’s territory. 

“I’m gonna need some identification.” Baekhyun tunes into Chanyeol’s conversation with the bar maid, a tattooed Dolly Parton wannabe with breasts larger than her head. 

Chanyeol whips out his ID confidently. She looks pissed that he’s of age. 

“Who’s the second beer for?” 

“For myself, of course. I don’t like makin’ too many trips to the counter in one evenin’, unless you wanna give me some good table service, darlin’.” 

She yanks down the lever without breaking her stony glare and serves him another pint. Chanyeol pays, pulling a face at Baekhyun once he’s turned his back. 

“I thought she was gonna be trouble,” Chanyeol chuckles, sitting down triumphantly and enjoying a large, victorious gulp of Guinness. “This place seems cosy, huh? Must be small town folk. Don’t like outsiders is probably what’s up.” 

“Probably,” Baekhyun agrees, noticing a discreet standoff between Jongdae, Minseok and a few guys at the bar. They remind Baekhyun of cats, spraying their piss around to mark their land. “Thanks for the beer.” He holds onto the glass with both hands, looking down at the frothy top layer. 

“No problem.” His voice sounds crisper when it’s wet. 

Baekhyun sighs. “Jongdae told me that you’re paying for me.” Chanyeol blinks at him, startled. Was he not supposed to know? “I know you know I’m poor as hell but I want to help out. I have a bank account with some money in there. I can pay for stuff.” 

Chanyeol recovers, wiping his upper lip of moisture and reclining in his chair. “I don’t want you think of this as charity work, Baekhyun. I just wanna help out, make that dream of yours come true. Money’s not an issue. Besides, I don’t want you spendin’ your rent money on some shitty onion rings.” He laughs, shoulders shaking. Baekhyun wishes he weren’t so stuck. 

“I’ll pay you back.” He catches Chanyeol’s eye to deliver his next line. “That’s a promise.” 

“You can if you want,” he shrugs, “but for now, I don’t want you to worry about money. You’ve been doin’ too much of that. I think you’d forgotten how to live, Baek. I can’t be havin’ that.” 

The concern and consideration bring a smile to Baekhyun’s lips, irrespective of whether it has permission or not. He takes a drink to save himself from emitting a cheesy, loved-up response, beer dribbling down his chin when Chanyeol urges him to neck it in one. 

“Alright!” he cheers. “You drinkin’ like a man now!” 

Baekhyun chokes on the last dreg and splutters all over the table, bowing down his head when he notices people staring at Chanyeol’s loud clapping – most notably, the bar tender he lied to. 

“Nice one, Chanyeol. We are so not getting served again.” He nods his head in the direction of Dolly and sniggers when Chanyeol makes a point of waving. 

“I’ll get Jongdae to sort us out. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. That’s what my granddaddy used to say.” 

Baekhyun loses himself to laughter. He never thought he’d hear someone say the word ‘granddaddy’ in a serious sentence. “You really are from the south, huh?” 

“Born and bred.” Chanyeol gives him a toothy grin. “Ain’t nothin’ better than puttin’ on a Stetson and ridin’ horseback across your own land.” 

He can imagine that, the wind trailing through Chanyeol’s long curls. Baekhyun pictures him as one of those old outlaws from the west, a gun at his hip and his hand always on the reins. 

“Why’d you leave, if there’s nothing better?” 

Chanyeol shrugs, sipping his beer. He’s making his drink last, not that it’s helping his increasingly tipsy state. They haven’t eaten in over eight hours by now. Baekhyun can always feel the alcohol going to his head. 

“’Cause in the end there was somethin’ better.” His smile grows muted, but it’s still there, simmering away in waiting. “I didn’t wanna stick around on my daddy’s ranch. He didn’t like that too much. And my mom, well, she just said whatever my daddy said. See, it wasn’t just ridin’ off into the sunset every day, pretendin’ you’re some famous cowboy savin’ the sweet maiden. It’s damn hard work. And I respect it. But it wasn’t for me.” 

Baekhyun lets out a breath, trying to stop his throat from closing up. He’s proud, even if it’s misplaced. Chanyeol is braver than he can ever dream of being. “I respect that,” he says. “I’m going to buy you a beer.” Baekhyun pauses. “Or, get Jongdae to buy us both another beer on my behalf.” 

Chanyeol laughs, that smile of his coming back up to a boil. Baekhyun loves seeing that smile every day. In times when it’s overcast, he still gets the sun. 

He steals some of Chanyeol’s bravery for approaching Jongdae. Despite their small talk, Baekhyun doesn’t think he’ll ever gel with the guy. Occasionally, people just don’t mesh. Baekhyun doesn’t see the point in fighting for a friendship he knows would be strained. He used to crave Jongdae’s approval, just a little, but since the intrusive interrogation, he’s gone off the idea. 

Jongdae is still in the middle of his standoff, having progressed to talking with the guys who have a problem with their being here. Baekhyun thinks nothing of being redirected when Sehun gets in his way. Sehun is doing him a favour. 

“You after Jongdae?” he asks, slipping his cigarette from between his lips and dabbing it in an ashtray on the bar. The smell reminds Baekhyun of Krager, but it’s sweeter coming from Sehun’s lips. This guy likes him, for some reason. Baekhyun is starting to wonder if Jongdae lied to him to poke fun. 

“Yeah.” 

“He’s a little busy right now,” Sehun says, eyeing Baekhyun up and down. Baekhyun wonders if he likes what he sees. “But I can help. You need somethin’ in particular?” 

Baekhyun smiles and settles into a stool beside him. “Just need someone to order myself and Chanyeol a beer. He blew it with the barmaid and I don’t think she’ll want to serve us again.” 

Sehun smirks, chuckling and shaking his head. “Chanyeol run his mouth again? He’s good at that. You can’t order yourself?” 

Baekhyun smiles sourly as he pulls out his wallet and hands Sehun a couple of bills. “Not old enough.” Sehun takes the money, seemingly surprised, and analyses Baekhyun’s face for a moment. 

“And here I was thinkin’ you just had a good skincare routine. But don’t worry, I’ll get you these beers. Head on back to the table so she don’t get suspicious.” 

Baekhyun smiles, glad to have another friendly figure around. He’ll put time and effort into the people who are kind to him. The rest are spares. “Thanks, Sehun. You can come join us at our table if you want. I’d like to know you better.” 

Sehun smirks through smoke, the blazing end of his cigarette shrouded by the intensity of his eyes. “Depends what you’d wanna know, but I think I’m good here.” 

“Well,” Baekhyun shrugs, hiding his mild disappointment, “if you change your mind.” 

He leaves, winding through the tables back to Chanyeol with smoke in his lungs. 

“You and Sehun gettin’ cosy?” Chanyeol questions when he gets back. 

Baekhyun smirks. “You jealous?” 

“Of Sehun?” He laughs it off. “Not a chance. Thought you were gonna ask Jongdae?” 

Baekhyun shakes his head as he sits down. “He’s preoccupied.” 

Chanyeol swings his head around to look, then snorts. He leans back, balancing his chair on its two back legs. “He probably knows them from somewhere. Every place we go Jongdae’s sayin’ hi to someone I’ve never seen before.” 

“That’s pretty cool, to have a friend everywhere.” 

“I don’t think many of them are friends.” 

Something in Chanyeol’s voice makes Baekhyun stop for a second: the disappointment that life isn’t as rosy as he’d like it to be. Baekhyun looks at Jongdae and wonders how he might know the old men with the guns and the scars. He can’t think of anything good. 

Several hours pass. They drink more beer, share an oily pizza and wash it down with an extravagant bottle of wine. Baekhyun smears his greasy fingertips on his jeans and enjoys the buzz of the alcohol, relaxing into his chair and smiling whenever Chanyeol looks at him. He hasn’t drunk enough to be wasted, but enough to be happy. It’s easy to forget your troubles when you look at everything through beer goggles. Maybe this is how Baekhyun can start appreciating the good. He has no idea what his life will be like in a month, but right now he has good people to drink with. He should be grateful for it. 

“You think that old thing works?” Chanyeol points to something over Baekhyun’s shoulder. 

Baekhyun twists the top half of his body. The jukebox. “I don’t know.” 

Chanyeol jumps from his seat. “Let’s go see.” 

Baekhyun grumbles when Chanyeol drags him across the bar, but he likes the feel of his hand gripping onto his denim jacket. 

“You know I’m gonna judge you depending on what song you choose, right?” he teases, heart beating a little faster when Chanyeol sniggers. 

“I’m countin’ on it. Gonna show you how cool I am.” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, like he needs convincing. 

The jukebox lights up like an arcade machine when Chanyeol presses a random button to wake it up. It looks like a remake of an old model, with the light up arch and the letter-number selection levers. Song names and artists are scribbled on faded labels behind a screen, ranging from the Bee Gees to some early Britney if Baekhyun is reading it correctly. 

He can’t make out the song Chanyeol chooses until after it starts. The beat of the drum is accompanied by a tapping rhythm, then whispers that Baekhyun can only describe as sultry before the killer guitar kicks in. Even with the first verse passing, Baekhyun doesn’t know the song. It’s before his time, something maybe his mom would have listened to in her high school days. He wonders if Chanyeol knows it himself or if it was a random pick, then wonders no more when Chanyeol backs up onto the small dance floor, snapping his fingers to the beat and starting to move to the music. 

He’s mouthing the words with a grin, the index finger of his right-hand curling at Baekhyun, asking him to come closer. Baekhyun doesn’t realise he’s moving until he’s already there, staring up at Chanyeol while the melody and the words twist and rock his body in dangerous ways. He’s enamoured. Chanyeol is coming alive in front of him, glowing, pretending to strum a guitar like he’s Slash at the most important concert of his life. Baekhyun thinks this might be _his_ most important moment. He is liking this guy way too much for it to not be real. 

There’s a change in the air and people start to notice. Chanyeol’s oozing confidence rubs off him and Baekhyun starts to move, timidly at first, then with more assurance. He mirrors whatever 

Chanyeol does, moving his hips, rolling his shoulders. Eventually, he loosens up, relishing Chanyeol’s eyes on his body. He hardly notices when others join them on the dancefloor, but when he does, Baekhyun looks around and feels proud. 

“You’re getting people to dance,” he says to Chanyeol. 

Chanyeol smirks, dropping the lyrics for a second to reply: “That’s just a side effect.” 

“Of what?” 

Baekhyun breath hisses down his throat when he inhales. Chanyeol slides closer, hands hesitating. “Of gettin’ you to dance with me.” 

He swallows loudly in his ears, momentarily stunned by his answer. Then he takes Chanyeol’s hands and puts them on his hips, moving his body in time with his, stepping closer, breathing his air. Baekhyun rests his palms on Chanyeol’s chest as his eyes crawl upwards, receiving his satisfied smile with a hammering heart. He can’t believe this is happening. It’s absurd that this guy wants him, but Baekhyun stamps on his worries, shudders when Chanyeol starts whispering the words in his ear, and has his mind made up by the time the song ends with the last line. 

There’s a pause. A: _what happens now_. With the music over, the little world they created falls. Baekhyun grabs Chanyeol’s hand and chases that world into the bathroom. He shoves Chanyeol into one of the stalls and crowds in alongside him, locking the door before he turns on Chanyeol, breathless and afraid. Chanyeol rests his elbow on the toilet roll dispenser and smirks, looking ridiculously good considering his surroundings. 

Baekhyun clutches onto Chanyeol’s leather jacket and watches his knuckles turn white. It’s a big risk, what he wants to say, but if he doesn’t get it out now, he feels like he’s going to explode. He looks Chanyeol straight in the eye and gulps down a last bit of air for good luck. 

“Can I trust you?” 

Chanyeol chuckles. Baekhyun’s vision goes fuzzy. He just about registers Chanyeol leaning off the wall and somehow taking a step closer to him, mindless of whether there’s room for it or not. 

“Have I ever given you reason not to?” 

That’s not what Baekhyun was asking. Chanyeol knows that. “Chanyeol—”

“Baby,” he says. It draws a gasp out of Baekhyun, so unexpected he almost chokes. “I can always be trusted to take care of the people I like.” 

Time freezes. Chanyeol’s one-sided smile becomes etched into Baekhyun’s memory forever. His brain struggles to compute what he thought was an impossibility, then it is jumpstarted into motion. Baekhyun clumsily throws his hands forwards, catches Chanyeol’s face, and curses under his breath before he swoops in to taste his lips. 

For seventeen heartbeats, everything is soft and quiet. Chanyeol holds him cautiously, kisses him gently, tingles a wave down Baekhyun’s arms every time Chanyeol breathes through his nose against his cheeks. Baekhyun hasn’t kissed someone he likes before. Only now does he realise that it can change everything. It’s not cold and wet or awkward. It’s warm. It makes him feel content, and Baekhyun blooms under his care, bringing the thunderstorm that lights up the sky and cracks down on the earth. He locks his arms around Chanyeol’s neck and kisses him harder, now entrapped in new emotions he can’t buckle down. He doesn’t know what’s coming over him, but he doesn’t care. 

He’ll let this go wherever it needs to go, which happens to be the motel they’re staying at several blocks down the road. 

Baekhyun bounces when Chanyeol throws him down onto the mattress. He fights to catch his breath while Chanyeol confidently strips himself shirtless, then starts yanking at Baekhyun’s shoes and socks and eventually his jeans. Baekhyun forces his fingers somewhat clumsily to undo his belt, button and fly. All he wears on his legs after that is goosebumps. 

“Should I slow down?” Chanyeol grins as he crawls on top of him, one hand on the mattress, the other pushing his hair out of his face. His curls are defiant, unruly. Hidden amongst the bracelets and leather bands on his right wrist is a bobble he quickly slips into his hair. 

“No.” Baekhyun shakes his head almost urgently. 

They kiss for what feels like forever and no time at all. Baekhyun helps Chanyeol shimmy out of his jeans and boxers while his throat is lathered in wet affections. He thinks he might be moaning Chanyeol’s name somewhere between all his heavy breathing but he can’t tell. Dazed and sensitive, Baekhyun just wants Chanyeol to touch him more. 

He can’t get Chanyeol dancing out of his head. His eroticism, and the ease at which it comes to him, seducing everyone to the dance floor. It was all a show for him. Baekhyun has never been singled out before. No one has made him feel special. His mind runs wild thinking of all the things he wants to do to Chanyeol before they go to sleep, of all the ways he wants to say thank you. 

Chanyeol’s fingers come burrowing under Baekhyun’s shirt and he sits up slightly to help him take it off. In the unexpected moment of peace that follows, Baekhyun finds the air thrust from his lungs. Chanyeol’s hips straddle his bulge like a warm hug. Every time he moves, it spurs little shocks through Baekhyun’s body that shiver up his spine. He places his hands on Chanyeol’s thighs, virtually hairless on the inside, and squeezes his flesh, while his eyes admire the sight of Chanyeol’s torso glistening with a sheen of sweat. He’s not muscular, only toned with minimal fat. In this position, his stomach curves out endearingly at the bottom, making Baekhyun smile. 

So enraptured, he doesn’t notice Chanyeol doing the same thing until he looks up at him a moment later. His eyes are on his body, searching, ravishing, looking at him like prey. Heat builds on the back of his neck and behind his ears as he guesses Chanyeol’s mind, moaning when he realises that Chanyeol has started to gyrate his hips without conscious thought. 

“You like being on top?” Baekhyun asks, teasing. Chanyeol is good at moving his hips. Baekhyun guesses he’s had practise. 

“I like hangin’ from the ceilin’ the best.” He winks, crowding back into Baekhyun’s space to give him a long kiss. “What do you like?” 

With Chanyeol so close, Baekhyun doesn’t need to fully open his eyes to see his face. His cheeks are smooth, pores larger around his nose where several chicken pox scars have settled in his skin. Glistening, puppy-like eyes peer at him from under long, downward eyelashes, his lips encompassed by bearded beginnings. A lone dimple that appears when he smiles to the side has Baekhyun’s mouth reaching out to lay his lips there. 

“I like boys with curly hair,” he whispers, chuckling after Chanyeol sniggers and meets his eyes. Baekhyun thinks he can see himself reflected in them. 

“Well,” Chanyeol says softly, so intimately, that it makes a lump threaten to rise in Baekhyun’s throat. It’s strange how quiet talking can be so private. When someone is so close to you that they hardly need to speak to be heard. And it’s nice, having someone so close, staying so close, without backing away because in some way you are naturally wrong. 

“I have more curls than just the ones on my head,” he says, and Baekhyun laughs into their next kiss, reaching between Chanyeol’s legs and moaning alongside him as he gets the night going with his hands and his mouth. 

Things change. There’s something in the water. Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol and gets to pretend he is his indefinitely. That this dream, this fantasy, can last for as long as he wants it to. When he wakes up on the brink of sunrise, bathed in golden light, it feels like Chanyeol could be something he made up. Like none of this is real because it is too good to be true. But then Chanyeol will breathe, his heart will beat, he’ll open his eyes, and when they focus on Baekhyun he’ll start to smile and stretch, yawn as if he hasn’t caught up on sleep yet. And Baekhyun will be happy, always happy, because Chanyeol gave him air to breathe. 

“This is new,” Baekhyun remarks, arms slung around Chanyeol’s waist as they pull up to the entrance of a caravan park. 

“We like to try new things once in a while,” Chanyeol says, turning his head back to grin at him. Baekhyun pretends to bite off his nose. “Ain’t stayed in no caravan before. Should be fun.” 

Baekhyun smirks at the prospect of a double bed, sitting his hands on Chanyeol’s thighs and nudging closer into his back. “Couldn’t agree more,” he purrs into his ear, laughing when Chanyeol shivers out of his grasp. 

They alight, joining the general conversation with the others while Jongdae and Minseok head into what Baekhyun presumes to be an office. It’s unusual how they never book ahead yet are always able to get enough rooms. Baekhyun puts it down to luck and them supporting businesses that have fallen on hard times. It makes sense for their occupancy rates to be low. 

The place looks inviting. Beyond a car park barrier is a narrow dirt lane that leads into the woods. From what Baekhyun can see, caravans are dotted around on little paths amongst the undergrowth, spaced out for privacy and the illusion of solitude. It seems too peaceful for men of their calibre. 

“Right boys,” Jongdae returns from the office, “here are your keys.” He tosses out three sets of keys, one to Sehun, one to Jongin, and one to Chanyeol, keeping one set for himself. Baekhyun lets out a sigh of relief. It’ll just be him and Chanyeol in a caravan. He wouldn’t want to share. 

The barrier opens slowly and they all file inside the park. Chanyeol straddles his bike and walks it along, wolf whistling to Baekhyun when he rolls past, handing the keys to Baekhyun which jingle against the number fob. Chanyeol follows the signposts to caravan nineteen and stands his bike out front, dismounting and grinning at Baekhyun as he steps up close. 

“This when I honeymoon-carry you through the door?” he asks, his hands on Baekhyun’s hips. 

Baekhyun pushes him away, flustered at his touches and humoured by his advances. He rises onto the small step outside the door while he unlocks it. “Think this place’ll be fancy?” 

“Fucks knows, but as long as there’s a bed I don’t really care.” 

The door is a little stiff but Baekhyun forces it open, immediately spotting a light switch and flicking it on to reveal a small kitchenette designed out of wood effect plastic. To the right are several doors, probably to a closet and bathroom, and to the left is the bed, taking up the entire width of the van and just wide enough to accommodate two people. It’s simple but efficient, though Baekhyun isn’t that qualified of a judge. 

“I don’t know if fancy’s the word, but it looks functional at least,” Baekhyun deduces. 

Chanyeol squeezes himself onto the step and pushes Baekhyun into the caravan. “Damn,” he says after a look around. “It’s basically a motel on stilts.” 

Baekhyun is taking in the dead flies inside the light when the whole room shakes. Chanyeol pouts, patting the bed around him. “The bed doesn’t bounce.” 

“If you kick a hole in the floor, I’m not helping you deal with it,” Baekhyun threatens, somewhat sad he missed Chanyeol jumping onto the bed like a child. He sits in Chanyeol’s lap and cups his face to make himself feel better, Baekhyun unable to contain the smile he takes on that lasts longer every day. 

“Will you help me punch a hole in the sky?” Chanyeol asks, wrapping his arms around him and tipping himself back till they’re horizontal. 

Baekhyun bites his lip and smiles, lowering his face until their noses touch. “Yes.” He would elaborate, but it’s unnecessary. ‘Yes’ serves its purpose just fine – all encompassing, resolute, definite. Baekhyun doesn’t need to know the how or the when or the why. Everything with Chanyeol is a yes. 

Chanyeol puckers his lips in the way Baekhyun loves, where his bottom one scrunches up and his top one curves out like the beak of a duck. Baekhyun’s heart rate picks up; nerves still buzz in his body whenever they’re near one another. This isn’t something he’s used to. Sharing himself with anyone is hard. But with Chanyeol he’s willing to put in the effort to open himself up, even if he’s afraid that he’s too boring or unattractive on the inside. 

He’d had a dream the other night, one that shook him. He woke on moss-covered ground at the first light of dawn, where once there was a campground now there was nothing. He dreamt they’d left him. That they took off in the middle of the night, too cowardly – or just too indifferent – to tell him about it first. It would be easy for them to do it. They are the ones with the money and the bikes and the connections. Baekhyun still has nothing, except Chanyeol. 

Sometimes he sees the looks on the others’ faces. Lips turned down, eyes narrowed, so intense that they rarely register when Baekhyun looks back. They don’t trust him. Baekhyun doesn’t know why. 

“What you thinkin’ about?” 

Caught in the act, Baekhyun lets out a breath and smiles awkwardly. “Nothing.” 

Chanyeol’s hands run up his arms and cup his face. He smiles softly, eyes welcoming, trusting. “You can tell me. I take my secrets to the grave.” 

“Well, I… don’t think your friends like me very much.” 

A frown instantly takes over Chanyeol’s features, one of confusion, not disagreement. “Why? Did they do somethin’?” 

“It’s more like what they’re not doing. I try and talk to them and, for the most part, I just get blank looks in response, or a nod or a shrug or a really-not-into-it ‘yeah’. Sehun is nice to me. We’ve talked. And Jongdae and I have talked but I don’t know what it is about him. It’s like he doesn’t trust me. It’s like none of them trust me.” 

Chanyeol hums, thinking. 

The guilt creeps up on Baekhyun, under his skin. He rolls off Chanyeol and lies beside him, staring into the harsh fluorescent light on the ceiling until it burns his eyes. He doesn’t want to drive a wedge between Chanyeol and his friends just because he’s bad at making meaningful connections with people. His situation is not for lack of trying, but maybe a matter of circumstance. The way Baekhyun used to make friends further north probably just doesn’t work in the south. Either way, it’s hard to integrate into a group that’s been strong and self-sustaining for years before he got here. 

“I don’t think you should be worried about it. We don’t tend to go around picking up strangers, so I don’t think they really know how to act. It was the same for me when I got here. They’ll warm up.” 

Baekhyun smiles. Baekhyun nods. Baekhyun doesn’t really believe him. 

He lies on the bed, consumed by it, while Chanyeol takes a shower. He’s being sensitive, overthinking. He should just calm down and let things happen naturally. If he forces himself on these people, it might make things worse. 

They decide to have dinner as just the two of them no matter how counter-intuitive it might be, heating up canned food in an old saucepan on the gas burner. Afterwards, Chanyeol pulls a book of crosswords from his bag and it entertains them for an hour or so, before they realise they’re both too uneducated to fill in half the pages. 

“Maybe we should get an early night,” Chanyeol suggests. “We’re staying with one of Kyungsoo’s friends soon. He’s got this big chunk of land by a sea. Built his own cabin from the ground up. Pretty sure we’re aimin’ to get there by tomorrow evenin’ so we’ll probably be ridin’ all day.” 

“Sounds sweet,” Baekhyun thinks aloud, accepting the crossword book from Chanyeol’s hands and leaning over the side of the bed to put it in his backpack. There, amongst his soap bottles and almost wrapped up in one of his t-shirts, is something he never thought he’d see, especially not in Chanyeol’s possession. He feels his stomach drop through his gut, afraid to even think what it is. 

Guns are uncommon. Baekhyun has never seen one with his own eyes before, even though he’s confident Krager had a rifle somewhere in the diner. He always threatened to pull it out when certain customers were giving him grief. Baekhyun figured it was a deterrent. Thing is, he hasn’t even seen cops carrying guns. They’re incredibly difficult to get hold of. They’re _illegal_. 

As he slides the crossword book back into the bag, he uncovers the barrel, the trigger, the magazine. He’s afraid to ask, but more so he wants the answer to take his fear away. If it’s Chanyeol, there must be a rational reason. That is the logic Baekhyun’s mind clings onto. 

“Why do you have a gun?” 

A beat, then: “I don’t.” 

Baekhyun cringes, hands beginning to shake. He sits up properly in bed, forcing his eyes to look up and across. “I’d pick it up and show you, but I refuse to touch it. It’s in your bag.” 

Chanyeol looks surprised. Maybe, it’s alarm. He crawls over the bed to look for himself and curses when he sees what Baekhyun sees. “Damn it. I’m sorry, Baek. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You forgot it was there, or…?”

Chanyeol has such raw guilt on his face that Baekhyun feels bad for bringing it up. “It’s Jongdae. I tell him I don’t like guns over and over but he wants me to have one.” 

“Why?” 

“Self-defence. He’s paranoid. There are some bad people out there he’s had to deal with. He’s afraid the past is gonna come to bite his ass and we’ll be in the line of fire. I only used it once, and that was when he was teachin’ me how to use it. For the past year he’s been sneakin’ one into my bag and I keep puttin’ ‘em right back when I can.” 

Baekhyun nods, looking at his hands. “Everyone has a gun?” 

He hears Chanyeol take a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I know it’s not exactly gonna help you feel safe.” 

“It doesn’t,” Baekhyun admits, “but, it’s not like you guys are gonna shoot me, right?” He laughs. It falls empty. 

“I promise we won’t. We want you to stick around, and I mean that.” 

Baekhyun smiles, warmed by the sentiment, heated by Chanyeol’s arms when they wrap around him. 

“Please don’t worry about it.” 

“I won’t,” he says, trying to believe it. 

And he tries, but he starts to notice suspicious bulges underneath everyone’s jackets, above the smalls of their backs. Have they always been there? During their long ride to the coast, Baekhyun cannot help but wonder if they all know how to use them, if they’re all good shots, if they’ve killed people before. He thinks of Kyungsoo, Sehun, Junmyeon, and imagines them embedding bullets between eyes, stopping hearts, taking breaths. It doesn’t seem to fit. They’re outcasts, not outlaws. But his mind is inventive, and it twists all their actions and expressions into ones underlined with malice, fuelled by unfounded hatred, and somehow, it feels real. 

“You alright?” 

Baekhyun snaps out of his thoughts, still entombed in them hours later when they’ve stopped for gas. Sehun is smoking, staring at the trees across the road cracking up the asphalt. Sehun smiles at him, an effort of comfort. Baekhyun pictures that smile on his face when he pulls the trigger. 

“Yeah, fine. Long drive.” 

“Right. I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’. It’s the only way to pass the time.” Sehun chuckles, taking a drag. “It’s warm out,” he then decides, holding his cig between his lips and slipping off his jacket. “Can’t wait for the sea air, that breeze. Ain’t felt that in a long time.” 

Baekhyun stares, unable to stop himself from hunting for a firearm. He takes a breath, empty handed, finding tattoos and a nice ass instead. 

“Never seen the sea,” Baekhyun murmurs, aware of himself loosening up and wondering if he appeared tense beforehand. Sehun doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, it only spurs him to smile more. 

“Never?” He seems surprised. His face doesn’t move much, but there are minor subtleties there that Baekhyun finds endearing – the tick of his eyebrows, the slight pull of his lips. It feels like something special when Sehun looks at him, only because he’s so infatuated with looking at everything else. 

Baekhyun smiles. “Never.” 

Sehun looks him up and down, smirks, and takes a drag from his cigarette. “I’ll take you swimmin’.” 

Baekhyun laughs, wondering if it’s just a pleasantry. Part of him hopes it’s not. The prospect of another friend is exciting and Sehun doesn’t strike him as dangerous. If he tries to drown him in the sea, then he’ll know for sure. Until then, innocent until proven guilty. 

Chanyeol is quiet when he rolls over, bike tank filled and a chocolate chip cookie between his teeth. “Hey.” He looks at Sehun. Baekhyun senses jealousy and disguises taking a step back from Sehun as repositioning his weight. “What you guys talkin’ about?” 

Baekhyun looks at Sehun. Sehun looks at him. “Swimming,” Baekhyun says. “Sehun’s gonna teach me.” 

Chanyeol smiles, glancing at Sehun and rubbing his lips together with a suggestive undertone Baekhyun doesn’t miss. “I see.” He smirks, eyes lingering on Sehun just a little too long for it to be casual. “Anyways, bike up. We’re movin’ out.” 

“How long left on the road?” Sehun asks, dropping his cigarette and twisting it against the gravel with the sole of his boot. 

“Jongdae said we only got five hours left.” 

“Right,” Sehun huffs. “ _Only_ five hours. This friend of Kyungsoo’s better run a good shop.” 

“From what I hear, he’s rollin’ in it. Not that Kyungsoo’s lettin’ on how.” 

Sehun chuckles, pitch low as he pulls out his sunglasses to shield his brown eyes from the evening sun. “Do we ever let on how?” 

Baekhyun hasn’t seen them interact so closely before. He finds it pleasant, starts thinking of them becoming a little group and Sehun being his bridge into the rest of them. There are others he thinks he could get close to, maybe Jongin, Junmyeon. He doesn’t know how to go about it but he thinks their characters are similar. 

Chanyeol’s leather burns under his hands when they’re on the road, nothing but the roar of engines and the occasional passing car. Hours of dodging Chanyeol’s curls have finally ended; Baekhyun woke up this morning determined to braid his hair. Revving catches his attention, Sehun overtaking them on their left. In that moment, the wind gets caught in his lungs. Sehun looks good, in the kind of way that makes Baekhyun feel guilty. 

It’s just curiosity. For the first time in Baekhyun’s life, someone wants him for longer than a couple of hours in the middle of the night. The possibility that more people want him is intriguing, enticing. Now he’s experienced what it’s like to be loved, not used, he knows he’s acquiring a taste for it. Sehun is friendly, approachable. Baekhyun can picture himself with him without getting unsettled and shrinking into himself. It doesn’t make his skin crawl like it does when he thinks about any of the other bikers in that way – save for Chanyeol. 

When they reach Kyungsoo’s friend’s house, Baekhyun goes through a minor case of shock. Glass walls, concrete pillars, palm trees as far as the eye can see. Who’d want to go in the heated pool when the private beach is only five minutes further away? Baekhyun almost can’t believe this is real: small town Kyungsoo knowing some bigshot millionaire who doesn’t once disclose how he came about his fortune. But in that moment, Baekhyun doesn’t care. He’s sure the opulence stops his heart for a second. If it’s being handed to him for free, who is he to refuse? 

“You can see the stars again out here,” Chanyeol murmurs, submerging his shoulders in the hot tub and groaning. It’s dark, the night sky framed by swaying palms and tall grasses. They’ve been here for a few hours, and after several quick introductions, Chanyeol pointed out the jacuzzi. The others are gathered on the patio on the other side of the pool, only every other shout decipherable to Baekhyun’s ears. 

He looks up and feels a strange sense of calm. A deep breath empties his lungs, cleansing all the heavy thoughts from today. “I think Sehun likes me.” He says it likes it’s no big deal, and perhaps it isn’t. Maybe out here social norms don’t apply. Baekhyun doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s highly likely that some of these guys hook up from time to time. They could even share girls they pick up from the bar. 

Chanyeol flicks the water absent-mindedly, the ripples lost in the bubble columns shooting out of the jets. “Does that bother you?” he asks. 

Baekhyun frowns. “Does it bother _you_?” 

Chanyeol smiles at him smugly. “It only bothers me if it bothers you. I like you, and I trust that you’d tell me if you were havin’ second thoughts about anythin’. It’s not your fault Sehun’s got a thing for you.” 

“So he does?” Baekhyun grins. “Jongdae told me, but I thought he was just bullshitting.” 

Scoffing, Chanyeol rests his head back, throat defined by shadows, twinkling with water droplets. “Jongdae doesn’t joke around too much if you hadn’t noticed. And Sehun did tell me himself so it’s not like some big betrayal. It’s just cool.” 

“Sehun told you?” He hates that he’s getting excited. Wanting for too much lands people with nothing. 

“You like this, don’t you?” He’s quieter now, eyes softer. “What’s your deal? You got some tragic backstory?” 

Baekhyun’s excitement promptly fizzles out into the hot tub. “It’s not really tragic. Just a whole lot of lonely.” Chanyeol holds out his hand and Baekhyun uses it as leverage to glide across to his side. He sits on the small ledge, one of the jets gushing hot water into his ribs. “The high school romance thing never happened for me and I couldn’t figure out why. I don’t get feelings for people easily. Or, at all, to be honest. Suddenly everyone around me was in love and I wasn’t. It sucked. I felt broken.” He laughs off key, the sound as jarring as playing the wrong note in a song everybody knows. “It’s just nice to feel wanted. It’s nice to want, too.” 

Chanyeol hums, face turned to him, nosing into his cheek. “I can make you feel wanted right here if you like.” 

Baekhyun feels himself going red. He turns to Chanyeol and kisses him longingly. Sehun may be tempting, but Chanyeol is what’s real. It scares Baekhyun, how powerful his feelings are growing. He’s never been consumed by something so good before, the feeling akin to unlocking a bonus level to life. 

“You make me feel wanted every day,” he whispers, heart in his throat. 

Chanyeol’s smile glows before he kisses him again, arms wrapping around his waist, reeling him in. Baekhyun can feel himself melting, the steam and Chanyeol’s touches making him light-headed. 

“I was thinkin’,” Chanyeol says breathlessly, “seein’ as we’re in a clean house and all, we could try somethin’.” 

Baekhyun holds his breath as they share a look, then he nods, nods and winds his arms around Chanyeol’s neck to kiss him harder, longer, deeper. A few minutes later, they’re leaving a trail of foot-sized puddles all through the house, sopping wet and slipping on the marble floors, their interlocked hands saving Baekhyun multiple times from a hard fall. 

Chanyeol pushes him into the walk-in shower of their en-suite, pressing him against the tiles with salacious kisses and hot hands. Water plunges from above after the turning of a dial, a cold shock before a thawing warmth that steams up the glass panels and swirls beneath the light fixtures on the ceiling. 

Hands on his hips slip under the waistband of the trunks Kyungsoo’s friend leant him, and Baekhyun pushes his pelvis away from the wall to help strip himself easily. Touch has never been such a dominant sense. Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol and all he wants to do is feel every inch of his body – what his skin feels like in different places, moles, scars, hairs that grow to different lengths. 

He groans, knees weak, and could collapse right there, but Chanyeol pulls off with a loud smooch and leaves the shower to go routing through the drawers under the sink. Baekhyun wonders what could be so important. Then, Chanyeol flashes lube at him. 

A part of him wants to scream, chest so full of emotions he cannot verbalise. Roughly, he grabs Chanyeol and lays a kiss on him, biting his lower lip and pulling it away, eyes hooded as he watches it snap back into place over his bottom teeth. The skin of his cheeks is peppered with stubble, but down the sides of neck, beneath his ears, it’s as smooth as glass. 

“Put your fingers in me,” Baekhyun breathes, the words shocking even to himself. Except there is nothing he wants more. Chanyeol being inside of him sounds incredible, life changing, and he turns himself around to willingly present his ass in the hopes he won’t have to wait too long. 

“ _Fuck_ —what are you doin’ to me?” Chanyeol growls, sinking his teeth into Baekhyun’s shoulder as he pins Baekhyun against the wall. Away from the spray of the water, Baekhyun watches Chanyeol coat his fingers and closes his eyes with a whine when they make contact with his skin. His legs threaten to give out but he fights against it. They can fuck on a bed anytime; a state-of-the-art shower isn’t as common. 

Chanyeol whispers dirty things in his ears, praises but also mentions of his greed, his desperation. Baekhyun gets off on it, pressing down into his fingers, tricking himself into thinking that no one else can hear him moaning shamelessly over the rush of the water. The steam from the shower becomes a thick mist that stops him from shivering, filling the whole room until the lights are a mere haze in the distance. Occasionally, the ceiling drips and cool water hits Baekhyun in the face – moments of clarity that never last long. He pants into the tiles, face half squashed against them, nails catching on the grouting when he claws at the wall. 

He hasn’t touched himself once but thinks he could come like this. In his mind, he conjures up what it looks like: Chanyeol’s fingers entering his ass, overlapping because he’s tight, lube squeezing out where it can. The heat helps, makes him delirious. Chanyeol stretching him open is a warm, rewarding burn that has him feeling open in the best way possible. It’s been a while since Chanyeol found that spot, the one that makes his knees quiver in place and his fingers curl up. Persistent fingertips massage him into a fragmented version of himself, moaning Chanyeol’s name like the rest of his vocabulary has been thoroughly fucked from his conscious. 

That’s what he wants. To be fucked. To be fucked hard against these tiles with thighs shaking and his ass pushed out to the limit. He wants to be crying out with every breath, on the verge of forgetting his own name, and held against the wall not by his own strength but by the weight of Chanyeol’s body on his. He asks for it, begs for it. “Please get inside me. Please fuck me.” 

Chanyeol obliges with a shaky curse and a second of repositioning. Then he’s pushing in, spreading Baekhyun open, rooting in deep. Baekhyun can’t even moan, all motor functions suspended in favour of giving Chanyeol’s entrance the awed welcome it deserves. He doesn’t even breathe, not wanting it to take away from every sensation that ripples through his body like a shot of electricity along a powerline. 

They fuck until Baekhyun gets what he wants, Chanyeol’s arm wound around his waist, hand supporting his jaw from underneath, holding his head up because Baekhyun doesn’t have the energy. It’s a blissful yet powerful experience. Baekhyun feels like he’s reached a higher level of existence, like he’s unlocked an extra percentage of his brain. Most importantly, he feels changed. Validated. Wanted. Only in the last second does he consider Sehun. It’s not a horrible thought, but he finds his greed quelled. How could he lust after another when Chanyeol pleasures him like this? So wholly, so readily, with a vulnerability Baekhyun wishes he had the vigour to display himself. 

Chanyeol washes his come off the wall one-handed, the other bracketing him against his body in a limp kind of hug Baekhyun is too tired to reciprocate. Having been out of the water stream for so long, they’re mostly dry when Chanyeol turns off the shower. Baekhyun can barely keep his eyes open on the way to their bed for the night, throwing off all the showy cushions and pillows and sprawling star-fished across the sheets. 

Baekhyun gradually comes into consciousness. The light behind his eyelids and the sound of sea waves through an open window cocoon him in a hazy state for a while, until his mind is sucked from sleep and he becomes aware of how sore he is. It’s unpleasant, though shifts towards something more enjoyable when he remembers last night. He had sex. Hot, meaningful sex, with a man who likes him. Pain becomes pleasure and Baekhyun revels in it, stretching, groaning, smiling into his pillow. He opens his eyes when he hears Chanyeol sigh, finding him just waking up beside him, rubbing his eyes and wiping away drool with the back of his hand. 

“Morning.” 

Chanyeol blinks at him, eyes pink and swollen. He must have slept well. When he registers what’s going on, he smiles dozily and rolls onto his side to face him. “Good mornin’.” 

Baekhyun doesn’t continue the conversation. He admires this version of Chanyeol, docile and droopy, for as long as he can before rumbling stomachs interrupt them. 

“I could eat a whole restaurant right about now,” Chanyeol says softly, lying on his back with his hand on his tummy. Baekhyun’s heart thuds when he realises he’s still naked, though it shouldn’t be a surprise. 

“I think I’ll join you on that.” 

Chanyeol smiles at the ceiling and Baekhyun eyes the curve of his cheeks as they bulge into apples. “You know, I’m pretty sure this guy has a personal chef. Bet he’s here makin’ breakfast.” 

Baekhyun perks up. “Really?” 

Nodding, Chanyeol props himself up on his elbows, the sheets slipping off his chest and falling to just above his hip. “Pretty sure. Guess there’s one way to find out.” 

By the time they get downstairs, dressed, showered and shaved, the rest of the group have already eaten. Jongdae directs them into the kitchen where they can ‘order’ their food, which doesn’t make sense until Baekhyun realises that he can ask the chef for anything he wants and he will make it without question. He goes easy on the guy, figuring that the others didn’t, and asks for a couple of pancakes with maple syrup – something he always served at the diner yet was never allowed to eat. Krager was strict on giving him food, even against letting him have the produce about to expire. 

Chanyeol is of higher maintenance, asking for French toast and bacon, but his demands are softened by the nice conversation he sparks up with the chef while he works. Everything Chanyeol does has an air of honesty to it. It lures people into him like a bee to pollen, everything about him a flower that you want to call your own. Baekhyun wishes he had that trait: the power to make a friend anywhere you go. 

Despite being open plan, the ground floor is so expansive that everything feels separated into its own section. Everyone is gathered around the dining table in deep discussions with Kyungsoo’s friend, but they don’t join them. Baekhyun thinks nothing of it when Chanyeol steers them away to the patio to eat by themselves. He guesses they’re having boring Yixing conversations and, truth be told, Baekhyun isn’t that interested. 

They finish their food and relax on sun loungers for an hour, tanning under a cloudless sky drinking iced lemonade and nibbling on peach slices. Baekhyun pretends that he’s rich with Chanyeol as his husband, but all that will prove to do is make every motel they stay in after this even shittier. He hopes they stay here for a while. Yet hope and reality are two very different things. You can’t catch up to someone if you stop moving and let them get ahead. 

Sehun comes out not long after, cigarette at the ready. He explains that the others don’t like it when he smokes around them, and even makes sure to stand in a position where the wind won’t blow the smoke into Baekhyun’s face. He sits down after a while, lounging like them. Baekhyun reminisces last night, somehow slotting Sehun into the equation and having to reposition his shorts. 

“What do you see when you look over there?” Sehun asks. 

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, like he’s just been pulled out of sleep, and squints at the foliage on the other side of the pool. “Nothin’?” 

Sehun _hmph_ s in amusement, the start of a smirk spreading on his lips. “It ain’t a trick question. What do you see?” 

“Bushes. Trees.” 

Sehun taps the ash off the end of his cigarette and sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the lounger to face them both. “Exactly. It’s somethin’ I’ve been considerin’. Some people look over there and just see a tree or a bush, but others look over there and see acacia, juniper or eucalyptus. How much do we miss because we’re not educated enough? How much do we not appreciate in daily life?” 

“Why are you so god damn deep all the time?” Chanyeol huffs. “Do you have an agenda? You wanna run for president now?” 

Sehun takes a drag, disguising a scowl. “Maybe I do. Would it be so bad? A _real_ person for president? But you can’t tell me I’m not makin’ a good point.” 

“It is a good point,” Baekhyun chimes in, flashing a smile at Sehun and feeling his heart race when he returns it. “Like how people don’t appreciate other people’s work because they don’t understand how much thought goes into it, or how long it really takes.” He’s projecting about the diner, but it feels good to say it out loud. “How’d you know all those tree names anyway?” 

“Dad used to be a landscape designer.” Sehun shrugs, stamping out his cigarette and retrieving a fresh one from his packet. “Mom was an architect. Made sense that they got married for business over love, I guess.” That is more than Baekhyun knows about the other guys combined. 

He likes Sehun. While Chanyeol snoozes in and out of sleep next to him and Sehun has taken to sitting topless on the edge of the pool, Baekhyun takes in his physique, the way he runs his wet hand through his hair and slicks it all back. Baekhyun’s mouth starts to water. Worst part is, when Sehun catches his eye, Baekhyun can’t bring himself to look away, transfixed by Sehun’s curious gaze, locked in by his muscles, tattoos and the slight arching of his right eyebrow as if to ask: _you like what you see_? And Baekhyun does, and it sucks, but he smiles back, suddenly shy, and averts his gaze when Sehun grows too intense to withstand. 

Thinking about him for the rest of the day drives him mad. News spreads that they have one more night here before they move out tomorrow. It’s their final few hours in luxury and cleanliness and Baekhyun wants to spend them well. He explores every nook and cranny of the house, Chanyeol on his tail almost knocking vases off tables and commenting on the weird pieces of art on the walls. When they find a sauna by the downstairs bathroom, they don’t hesitate to strip naked and take seats, consumed by heat and steam as soon as they shut the door behind themselves. 

“Is this place for real?” Baekhyun marvels, feeling the wooden bench beneath his hands and leaning back against the wall. He’s naked but not shy. Chanyeol saw everything in high definition last night. 

“I wanna own a place like this one day,” Chanyeol sighs, looking around. This room alone probably costs more to run than Baekhyun’s yearly salary. It’s a depressing thought, distressing too. For a man like himself, with little education and no experience of real worth, there aren’t many paths he can take. 

Baekhyun hears the door creak open before he sees it, the steam so heavy that he can only make out a few inches before him. The cool air thins out the heat and Baekhyun shivers for a second, covering himself with his hands because he has no idea who’s just walked in. Then, they say hey, and Baekhyun slowly retracts his hands. 

Sehun sits down opposite him, a towel around his hips. He’s dripping wet, either straight out of the shower or fresh out the pool, and Baekhyun wants to lick the rivulets of water that course over his chest until he’s bone dry. It’s just curiosity. Whether it’s healthy, he can’t tell. He should have talked to Chanyeol about it, but it always felt like Sehun was one of those apparitions – a thing he can appreciate but never touch. Now, he feels so close, too close, and Baekhyun can barely hold himself back. 

“What are you guys gonna do for the night?” 

“Haven’t decided yet,” Chanyeol says, lax and loose. “Why? You wanna join us?” 

“Might do,” Sehun says. Baekhyun’s excitement grows. “Depends.” 

That’s all that’s said, until Chanyeol whispers wantonly in Baekhyun’s ear. “ _Ever considered a threesome_?” 

The question is electric and sends tremors of pleasure through his gut. Being with the both of them at the same time makes him weak, makes his heart clamour and stutter until his ribs are no more than a brittle iron cage ready to crumble. Maybe this is freedom, sexual liberation, his heart the bird finally spreading its wings and learning how to fly. An overused metaphor, perhaps, but no less real. Or daunting. 

He nods, whispers: “Yes,” and tries to spy Sehun out through the steam. He thinks he’d faint if they did anything in here, already lightheaded from the question alone. He wants to see Sehun too, clearly, absolutely. He wants to watch as his muscles move under his skin, skin that gets sweatier with every minute that passes. 

When Chanyeol hears his answer, he smirks and drops a kiss onto his shoulder. “Sehun,” he calls. “You’re up.” 

Baekhyun only wonders for a second if this was premeditated. He thinks back to the looks Chanyeol and Sehun have exchanged, and immediately his mind races to images of them fucking each other to pass the time. He can feel himself getting hard, blood rushing south, and swallows with anticipation when Sehun looms over him, a murky figure that edges towards clarity with every step closer. The back of Baekhyun’s head hits the wall when he reclines his neck, eyes raking up Sehun’s torso until he reaches his hooded gaze. 

Willingly, he spreads his legs and sits up straighter, eyes peering up at Sehun curiously as he steps between his knees and raises his hands to cup his face. Baekhyun rests his over the top, closing his eyes and letting out a trembling breath. Sehun’s hands are soft and wet, his stomach glittered with beads of water. Baekhyun wants to lick the line between his abs. 

“You alright there?” he asks, the weight of his palms lessening slightly – and invitation to back out. 

But Baekhyun wants this. He focuses on Sehun’s towel as it tediously slips lower and lower on his hips, then pooling around his ankles on the floor. Baekhyun’s want strengthens. He decides to abate his desires by touching what lies in front of him. His hands jump at first contact, then they press down firmly, fingers encasing Sehun’s hips with naïve fascination. He does as his wishes dictate, laying a chaste kiss on Sehun’s stomach before he looks up at him again, blinking through the steam, and asks him to kiss him. 

It blows his mind for a second, how different Sehun is to feel, to taste, to inhale. Where Chanyeol is playful and teasing, Sehun is passionate, gentle, but most importantly, he doesn’t dominate. In the back of his mind, Baekhyun is afraid he’ll embarrass himself. He is by no means an expert, and all this time Chanyeol may have just been polite about his weak kissing skills, yet he unties himself from those worries. They won’t get him anywhere. 

Baekhyun moans at the arrival of Sehun’s tongue, almost cool in contrast to the temperature of the room. He welcomes it likes it’s his first drink in weeks; in a way, it is. His hands stutter, struggling to find a path with his mind so preoccupied. His ability to function only worsens when another mouth laves at his neck, turning his insides into molten lava that runs through his veins and settles with a weight in his gut. 

Sehun breaks the kiss for as long as it takes for him to sit down, gently guiding Baekhyun’s face into position so their mouths align again. His hand falls from Baekhyun’s cheek to his neck and then his stomach, palm flat over his belly button like a warm compress. Waist, neck, thighs, Chanyeol touches them all, scouring his body until he reaches his groin and takes him in his hand, the callouses formed from his guitar playing subdued by the damp. One by one, his fingers curl around Baekhyun’s shaft. Baekhyun lurches at an upward tug, then his body goes lax in their arms. 

He licks into Sehun’s mouth like he’s an oasis after miles of desert sand, feeling his body buzzing beneath his lips, blood thrumming beneath his skin. Baekhyun moans when the pleasure outgrows his other senses, his toes curling, stomach tensing, one hand on Sehun’s chest and the other sneaking it’s way over to find Chanyeol’s crotch. Sehun’s fingernails scratch playfully at his skin. Baekhyun relishes in the slight burn he leaves behind. 

Chanyeol’s hand wraps around his own and raises it to his mouth. With a kiss on Baekhyun’s pulse point, he murmurs, “This is about you,” and doubles his efforts. 

Breathing ragged, Baekhyun looks at him, confused but flattered, if not a little self-conscious. Sehun nips at his earlobe while he waits, Baekhyun ensconced in his arms. He takes a moment to think, mind registering that he is going to come in front of them both with nothing else to take their attention. They’ll get to hear every noise that comes out of his mouth, see the exact way his face scrunches up and how he bites onto his lip. For a fraction of a second, it terrifies him. But then, why would they be doing this if it wasn’t something they wanted to see? Where Baekhyun thinks he looks stupid, maybe they see something ridiculously and incredibly hot that he just isn’t capable of seeing in himself. 

So, he relaxes. In the heat of the sauna, he can barely keep his eyes open, mouths coming and going, identified through the shapes of their lips and the eagerness of their tongues. He moans unabashedly and finds each of his hands held by the time he’s letting himself give in to the pleasure radiating from below. Body pulling taut, Baekhyun comes, milked through it by Chanyeol’s ardent touch and Sehun’s fervent grazes. Sehun peppers kisses along his throat and collarbone, humming into his skin as if he himself is now sated and could happily fall asleep. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he even suggests, Chanyeol chuckling in Baekhyun’s other ear and sending tingles down his left arm. 

They grab their towels and leave, Baekhyun hissing at the dramatic drop in temperature. He isn’t cold for long. The night passes in a blur, a wet, sticky, and sweaty concoction of images so unexpected that he struggles to comprehend that they’re real. Constant touches grace his mouth and body, always a hand in his hair and someone inside of him; it doesn’t matter which end. 

He sucks Sehun down his throat while Chanyeol stretches him open, teasing his prostate gently and gradually building him up to a position where he can comfortably come again. Sehun likes to pull on his hair, an itching burn that spreads like a forest fire across his scalp, whereas Chanyeol likes to put his hands around his neck and guide him where he needs to be, up or down, to the tip or to the very end. The ache of his jaw and the soreness of this throat is a reward for his commendable performance. He doesn’t care if he can’t speak in the morning; he made both of these fully experienced men almost come into his stomach through something he has only done a couple of unsuccessful times before. 

The way they look at him makes Baekhyun want to burst. He feels like meat, prey, dinner, and is willingly manoeuvred to wherever they want him. Not once does he feel used or mistreated. Frequent questions on his wellbeing are whispered and there’s water nearby. When he asks them to slow down for a second, they do, respect of the upmost importance before sexual relief. He doesn’t get much say in what happens, but he doesn’t know what he would suggest if he did. All he wants is to know where he needs to be and what he needs to do to make everyone, including himself, feel like they’re at the end of the world. 

By the time Baekhyun feels ready, trembling with anticipation, both Sehun and Chanyeol are hard and dripping. When he looks at their lengths, his jaw goes slack, opening subconsciously waiting for something to be put inside. Sehun is bigger by a long shot, the length of Baekhyun’s fists stacked one on top of one another. Baekhyun’s eyes are drawn in by the vein that protrudes along the underside, licking a fat stripe from base to tip and taking in a good few inches just to shred Sehun’s mind a little more. 

Chanyeol is wider, Baekhyun’s fingers just long enough to curl around his girth. It is part of his motivation to take Sehun first, to give himself the time to open up. Baekhyun hisses when Sehun edges in, reaching his hands back to hold Chanyeol’s arms. Chanyeol’s chest is warm against his back, his legs held up by hands on the backs of his thighs. Exposed and at the mercy of Sehun’s dick, Baekhyun moans and whimpers, watching him sink himself in under he tells him to stop, at his limit. 

“You okay?” Sehun asks, hands cradling Baekhyun’s waist, ready to use it as leverage. 

Baekhyun nods, wiggling and groaning lowly at Sehun moving inside him. With every thrust that follows, Baekhyun wants to come. He fights between closing his eyes and keeping them open, knowing that what he will see will make him release in an instant, but wanting to have something to remember when it’s over. Every swing of Sehun’s hips dexterous punches a cry from Baekhyun’s lungs, his length reaching depths that Chanyeol left uncharted. 

By some miracle, he doesn’t come. He lasts long enough to accept Chanyeol inside him on his hands and knees, rocking forwards with every shot only to have Sehun venture further and further down his throat. His wrists and knees ache from supporting his body, wincing when the arch of his left foot cramps up, curling like a bowstring. 

He blinks and finds himself lying on his side, sandwiched between the both of them, swaddled in their heat. Baekhyun gasps just to breathe, always being kissed, always being fucked, affectionate touches raining down on his body like a giving monsoon. They whisper praises and gift him smitten smiles, while repeatedly making sure he’s okay. Baekhyun almost tears up several times from how much they care. 

“Would you ride me?” Sehun asks, voice raw. “If you want.” 

Baekhyun fills his lungs with air again, doing his best to verbalise a response. Sometimes taking a long, deep inhale just gets him more out of breath. He agrees, chest expanding with contentment to a size on the verge of painful when he sits himself on Sehun’s thighs and finds both him and Chanyeol smiling cutely up at him. Arrested, Baekhyun gazes at them in awe, how beautiful they are, the way they shimmer in the light. Sehun’s tattoos glisten and Chanyeol’s hair lies in dream-like swirls against the pillow. 

“Look at him,” Chanyeol whispers to Sehun, the two of them exchanging an intimate smile. 

“I know,” replies Sehun, his hands coming to rest on Baekhyun’s thighs and kneading into his muscles there. He presses away the tension like it’s nothing. “You can do it, sugar. Pretty little thing.” 

As if it’s possible, Baekhyun feels himself get hotter, blushing fire truck red from head to toe. He wants to be pretty for them. He wants to be their sugar. Nothing else could ever be as sweet. 

Cautiously, he lowers himself down on Sehun, guiding him inside with a hand around his base. He whines at the stretch, whimpers when it glosses over his prostate, and bites down hard on his lip when his eyes home in on Chanyeol touching himself to the display, eyes hooded, tongue resting on his bottom teeth, hand lazily pumping his dick to hold off the culmination of their evening. 

Baekhyun slowly starts to ride him, switching from his knees being on the mattress to his feet, holding his weight on his hands behind him. It hurts less this way, but it is no less tiring. They breathe sweet encouragements to him, sweet nothings of how good he looks, how there is no other like him. Baekhyun fights through his exhaustion for two men who look and sound absolutely in love with him. 

He could die tonight and be happy. There would be arms around him, love and warmth in the air. It’s all he has ever wanted wrapped up in a couple of souls. 

Muscle cramps start kicking in just before Sehun announces that he’s going to come. He pulls out of Baekhyun and aims it up towards his chest, grunting and gasping, body aquiver, as it shoots onto his stomach. Chanyeol follows shortly after with a sharp, punctuated, “ _Fuck_ ,”, the column of his neck stretched as his head cranes back. 

Baekhyun places a palm on each of their chests, just to know this isn’t a dream, and smiles at the thunderous heartbeats they compete with. He comes in Chanyeol’s arms, gazing into his eyes, letting him into his soul. It’s a private moment, just the two of them. 

They bask in the afterglow for an uncounted amount of time, too boneless to shower or get rid of the sheets. Sehun leaves at the first hint of dawn, kissing both of them one last time before he strides from the room naked. 

Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol until he’s memorised every last detail of his face. 

“I wouldn’t get attached to Sehun,” Chanyeol whispers, even a whisper too loud for the safe haven they have now created. 

“Why?” Strangely, it doesn’t make him sad. 

Chanyeol smiles apologetically. “He doesn’t do feelings.” 

Baekhyun nods in understanding. “It was just intrigue. An itch I had to scratch.” 

“That’s alright then.” Chanyeol flashes him a cheeky grin, then homes in for a chaste kiss before he closes his eyes and nestles into the pillow. 

Sehun returns to his regular state: smoking, scowls and deep thoughts with open-ended questions. There is nothing about him, or the way they interact thereafter, that alludes to them ever being intimate. It doesn’t irk Baekhyun like he thought it might. He had a taste and the flavour was fine, but it wasn’t a homecooked meal that made him feel fuzzy inside. If anything, his time with Sehun made his realise how much Chanyeol means to him, and Chanyeol alone. 

Subtle signs of plain togetherness with Chanyeol make his insides quiver. An arm thrown around his shoulder. A hand slipped into the back pocket of his jeans, the fingers intermittently curling in to press into his flesh. Baekhyun kisses Chanyeol whenever he gets the chance, in petrol station toilets and in the back of the bar where the lights are too dim for anyone to see what they’re doing. Baekhyun wears Chanyeol’s jacket like a badge of honour, as a statement that they belong to each other. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Baekhyun says, staring at the motel ceiling. He feels Chanyeol shift beside him. The lamp on his side of the bed is still on so he isn’t asleep, only daydreaming. “I want this.” 

He doesn’t have the guts to finish that sentence, to say anything absolute. 

“This?” Chanyeol sounds amused, fingers lacing with his. 

Baekhyun swallows past the lump in his throat. The fear of rejection never goes away. He worries that he’s pushing too far, asking for too much. Maybe in twenty minutes he’ll be able to look back and think himself stupid. Or he could be crying on the sidewalk as he tries to find a payphone. 

“I want… this…” he hedges further. “To be… serious.” 

Chanyeol’s fingers squeeze his hand. “Who says it ain’t?” 

Baekhyun closes his eyes. “No, I—” he sighs. Even he doesn’t know what he means. His heart yearns for Chanyeol. He never wants to leave his side. And yet, how achievable of an objective is that? The ways things would work out are few and far between. In the long run, whatever this is isn’t sustainable. Baekhyun doesn’t want to admit that to himself yet. He doesn’t want to speak it into existence, either. 

“You’re right,” he says, taking the easy way out. To convince him, he pulls Chanyeol in for a kiss and does so slowly, feeling his mouth, tasting his lips. They’re bitter with beer but that’s how it’s meant to be. The sweet balanced with the bitter. You wouldn’t know which was which without the other. 

A thud outside breaks his train of thought, a full, deep sound made by something heavy. Baekhyun turns around and looks at their motel door. Beside it is their window, the curtains drawn since they arrived, courtesy of Chanyeol. He listens out for more. He isn’t disappointed. 

“What is that?” he asks, not really expecting an exact answer but hoping for a rational excuse. 

“Probably nothin’.” Chanyeol chuckles. “Someone droppin’ their suitcase or somethin’.” 

Baekhyun turns back to him, calmed by the explanation despite its lack of verification. A suitcase falling. That makes sense. He lies down and smiles at Chanyeol, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. They’re having a quiet night in after having driven for eight hours. Chanyeol’s exhausted and Baekhyun has only just regained the feeling in his ass after sitting down for so long. Leftover pizza sits in its box on the desk, next to the handful of change the delivery guy gave them. Baekhyun was meant to go to the vending machine by the office but was dragged into bed and hasn’t been able to get up since. 

“Can I ask you something?” he wonders, watching Chanyeol’s chest rise and fall. 

“Hit me.” 

“Were you and Sehun a thing before I came along?” 

Chanyeol slowly grins. “What gave you that impression?” he wonders, pinning Baekhyun with his amused stare. “But yeah, we would hook up every now and then, just casual. Guess that helps things make a bit more sense, huh?” 

Baekhyun huffs through his nose with a hint of a smile. “Yeah, makes sense,” he murmurs. He doesn’t know how that information sits with him, but he doesn’t worry about it for long. His head snaps towards the door again as a string of pointed thumps slice the nights quiet. Whoever it is outside must have seven suitcases. Except, that explanation doesn’t seem as reasonable anymore. 

“Chanyeol…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, resting his hand on Baekhyun’s arm as if to keep him on reins. “We’re in a dodgy part of town. Probably just the local gangs havin’ a playfight.” 

For someone so curious, Chanyeol is quick to dismiss it. “I’m gonna go check,” Baekhyun says, standing and tentatively approaching the window where he pulls the curtain back just a slither to peek outside. It’s difficult to see the parking lot under the old streetlamp, but once his eyes adjust, he can make out their collection of bikes lined up along the sidewalk. He squints, thinking it will help him to see better, and strains his eyes on the moving shapes in the dark, just about managing to outline a group of men gathered around what he thinks is a pickup truck. 

“There’s a gang out here,” he whispers to Chanyeol, afraid his voice might carry through the glass. He watches wide eyed as one of the men jerk around in a way that isn’t natural, his final almighty thrust providing Baekhyun with the source of his sound. He spins around to Chanyeol in shock. “Chanyeol, they’re beating someone up.” 

Chanyeol’s expression hardens. “Come away from the window, Baek.” 

But Baekhyun is entranced. Now knowing what is going on, he can’t look away. It is sickeningly fascinating and almost surreal, something you only ever see in movies and will never witness in real life. Behind him, Chanyeol turns off the lamp and encases them in darkness. Everything else becomes brighter, the streetlamp and the moon included. Baekhyun can make out a cowboy hat on the assaulter and feels something vicious claw at his chest. 

“It’s Jongdae.” 

He hears the mattress springs creak. 

“That’s Jongdae,” he says again, disbelief making him breathless. “Jongdae is… beating someone up. And if that’s Jongdae, who is with him? Who is he punching in the stomach?” 

“Baekhyun, please come away from the window,” Chanyeol says shakily at a volume too loud for the room. The wavering of his words stands out as panic. Somehow, Baekhyun does not believe they are panicked for the same reason. 

“We need to stop him,” he declares, facing a blanched Chanyeol. “We can’t just let him beat someone up!” Chanyeol doesn’t move. He just stands there aimlessly, trying to figure out what to say. 

“It’s best not to get involved,” he says weakly. “Jongdae probably knows what he’s doing.” 

Baekhyun retracts. Chanyeol doesn’t even question it. He doesn’t even need to see it for himself to know that it’s Jongdae out there pummelling someone’s ribs until they’re broken. 

“He’s a good guy.” 

Baekhyun can’t help the way his face reacts, eyes popping out, eyebrows taking off. “A good guy?” He can feel his blood starting to boil. “So it’s okay to beat people up now?” 

Chanyeol’s face crumples, stabbing Baekhyun in the heart. He realises he’s been shouting at him. 

“I promise, he’s good,” he says quietly, dropping down onto the bed, shoulders curved forward. He hangs his head like he’s ashamed of himself, evoking pity in Baekhyun’s weak heart. “He took me in when I had no one. He didn’t have to. He could have just left me there. My… my dad was an alcoholic.” 

Baekhyun is the one punched this time, right behind his eyes. He creeps closer to Chanyeol like he’s approaching a lion, afraid he is going to lash out. 

“He’d get mad at me for studyin’ and for not studyin’. He’d get mad when I didn’t go grocery shoppin’ and get mad when I bought the wrong things. He got mad when I used the shower but shouted at me when I stank. He was a real hard to please guy.” 

Gingerly, Baekhyun perches beside him. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him nearer, so Chanyeol can rest his head on his shoulder and bleed tears onto his t-shirt. 

“I don’t want to get into it, Baek. I don’t like talkin’ about it. But I got a job at a bar in town. In hindsight, that was my first mistake. I’d graduated high school but college was never gonna happen because I was expected to keep workin’ on the ranch. I just wanted to be away, but I couldn’t afford it. One night, I showed up to work with a black eye. It was the night these guys were ridin’ through town. Jongdae offered me an escape. I can’t repay him enough for that. I promise you he’s a good guy. Not a hundred percent, but a decent amount. If he’s beatin’ someone up, it’s for a good reason. I don’t get involved in a lot of his dealin’s but I guess it’s got to do with Yixing.” 

Baekhyun doesn’t care about what’s transpiring outside anymore. He holds Chanyeol tightly and whispers a wet apology, heartbroken that he made him cry. His unnecessary conflict caused the man he loves to bawl in his arms; that is more important than some asshole’s ribs any day. 

He thinks he’s okay with it, he really does. But whenever he looks at Jongdae after that night all he can hear is bones snapping and blood splatters painting the asphalt like summer rain. As he straddles Chanyeol’s Honda Fireblade ready to leave that morning, he notices that the passenger seat window of the pickup truck is smashed, shards of glass spread far across the parking lot on a background of red smears turning brown under the sun. Junmyeon owns the bike beside them. He turns his gears on the handlebars, knuckles ablaze with scarlet scabs and irritated skin. Baekhyun arms cinch around Chanyeol’s waist. Something isn’t right. 

When they roll into the next town, they drop into the busiest bar they see and crowd the entrance with bikes. The locals taking a smoke merely glance at them with disinterest. 

“You alright?” Chanyeol asks. “You seem quiet today.” 

Baekhyun flashes him a smile. “Yeah, sorry.” His mind races for an excuse. Hungry? Feeling down? Didn’t sleep well? “Just missing you.” 

Chanyeol raises his eyebrows and smirks – Baekhyun’s desired response. It is true that they haven’t slept together since the house. Baekhyun figures that pulling on those strings won’t prompt further questions where an alternative response would. He feels bad for lying, but in retrospect, everything else that’s going on is making him feel worse. Chanyeol is included in that, to a certain extent. 

“I can fix that, baby,” Chanyeol purrs in his ear, slipping his hand into Baekhyun’s jean pocket. They order drinks, Chanyeol paying, and find themselves a table at the back. They don’t sit anywhere near the other guys anymore and, in all honesty, Baekhyun is glad. He has never known how to talk to them anyway, and that was before he knew they all carried guns and beat people up for a midnight snack. 

He lets himself be distracted, Chanyeol nuzzling into his neck, and groans lowly at the hand on his thigh. The way his body reacts is instinctual, coming alive under Chanyeol’s touch whether he wills it to or not. Half hard already, Chanyeol asks him if he wants to get off right here. Baekhyun asks him to kiss him instead. 

That’s all they do for a while, clutching at each other, tongues in mouths and nipping teeth. Baekhyun forgets the world around him. If he just kisses Chanyeol, nothing else is important. The guns. The bruises. The group discussions that Baekhyun is never included in. Who cares what they’re up to, so long as he has Chanyeol? 

Even though they all have endless stashes of money and have never once been turned away from a motel, only Chanyeol matters. Even as, later that night, Baekhyun sees Jongdae and Minseok in a standoff with the bar tender before they announce to them that they have free drinks all night, only Chanyeol matters. 

_Only Chanyeol_. 

It’s not enough. 

He breaks their kiss, looks at him almost desperately, then decides he needs air. 

The parking lot of the bar is buzzing with life, people smoking, drinking and playing music through their car speakers just to see the drunk girls dance. Baekhyun focuses on that until his breathing returns to a steady drag and release – an arduous lifelong labour that exhausts you to your time of death. He likes the way the girls sway their hips, the way they caress their hands down their body. Intently, he watches, heart stilling when one of them meets his eyes by accident and smiles. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?” 

Baekhyun jumps. Sehun chuckles, offering him a smoke that he refuses. 

“I thought I might go for one of them, you know,” Sehun says, waving his cigarette in their direction. “Think they like more of the old man type, though. Big beards, sunglasses, bandannas. Each to their own, I guess.” 

Baekhyun tries a laugh but it fizzles out bitterly. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” It’s a kneejerk reaction, to say you’re fine. 

Sehun nods, not in understanding but in acceptance. Baekhyun never realised he was such a bad liar. He shies away from Sehun’s grey, calculating eyes, afraid he’ll be too easy to read. 

“It won’t be long now,” he says, and smiles at Baekhyun’s confused face. “Till we find Yixing. He’s not that far away now.” 

Baekhyun feels the world crushing his chest. The unknown becomes a demon in the dark, crawling closer with every second. What happens after Yixing is found? Where does he end up? For a split second, Baekhyun wants to confide in Sehun. They’ve seen each other naked; he should be able to at least ask him for advice. 

He watches Sehun take in the smoke of his cigarette with his battered hands, and stares as he then grinds it into the concrete, reaching for his pack in the back of his jeans, past where his gun is hanging in its shoulder holster. Not one of them is good. They’re all complicit in something Baekhyun doesn’t understand. Sehun said it himself. How much has Baekhyun missed because he was too uneducated to see it was there? They must all think he is the stupidest man to work the earth. 

Faint with humiliation, Baekhyun hauls himself back inside and hides in a toilet stall for the rest of the night. He muffles his cries and heavy breathing in the sleeve of his jacket, glad for the virtually endless supply of toilet roll he uses to blow his nose. He works himself up into a frenzy, retching and rousing voices of concern from the other people present. But he’s fine, because fine cuts off the conversation and kills further questioning. It stops him from getting help, from finding a way out, and from even just asking for a glass of water. He doesn’t know where to go from here, but eventually Chanyeol comes in calling his name, saying they’re about to head out, and Baekhyun follows him like a lost dog. 

It takes a few days to reach Yixing. They sleep rough in tents for one night, a motel for another. The third night, Baekhyun passes out in a bar after drinking away his worries and wakes up in a girl’s apartment. She gives him breakfast, slips him her number. Baekhyun doesn’t remember her name or how he got here, but is significantly glad to find Chanyeol asleep on her sofa. He feels out of himself, like this isn’t really him and this isn’t his life and none of this is really happening. His eyes have been cast from his body and left to watch as he fucks up what little good he possesses. 

He doesn’t remember sleeping with the girl, and thankfully Chanyeol confirms that all he did was kiss her. He teases him about it on the way down the stairwell, telling him how she was so desperate for him. All he feels is relief for a while, then it manifests into resentment and disgust the longer his brain is awake. He wants Chanyeol to be angry with him. If they’re a serious couple, didn’t Baekhyun just cheat? Why doesn’t he care? 

Everything is turning upside down. The uncertainty of his future is no longer liberating but crippling. The laid-back attitude of the guy he swears he loves was reassuring before, but is now sending him into a debilitating state of alarm. The easy road is now a path to corruption. Baekhyun struggles to recognise himself as anything more than a shadow of his former shadow. 

Clinging onto Chanyeol is all he can do, spiralling rapidly without warning. His mind has never fallen so fast before. It’s only been a matter of days, gold and silver degrading into copper and tin. What’s worse is that Chanyeol notices. Despite everything, Baekhyun feels guilty for making him worry. He allows his mind to be taken off it. He lets it unravel beneath Chanyeol’s body and mouth, his soul now strands that tangle themselves between Chanyeol’s fingers and knot around his own neck. 

“I’m just afraid of what happens after,” he whispers, trying to be as quiet as possible. It is the only time they haven’t got a motel room to themselves. He can hear Kyungsoo and Sehun’s deep breathing, but he’s sceptical of whether they’re asleep. 

“After what?” Chanyeol asks. He’s crammed into the single bed with him, both of them baking under the duvet. Every time Chanyeol breathes, Baekhyun feels himself dripping with sweat. 

“Yixing. I don’t want to leave.” But he doesn’t want to stay with the way things are. 

He feels Chanyeol’s hand on the side of his face and lets out a shaky breath. The scales are unbalanced, Chanyeol unknowingly fighting a losing battle against all the bad coursing through Baekhyun’s head. 

“You don’t have to leave,” he says. “I want you to stay.” He pushes Baekhyun’s hair back from his forehead and presses a kiss there, ever so softly. “You’re a part of the group.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes fall closed to hide his unshed tears. He’s not a part of the group. Even an idiot would see that. At what point does lying to someone to make them feel better become unfair? Or, cruel? It is the hope that it’s not a lie that helps Baekhyun to fall asleep, but he’s woken only a couple hours later by everyone else in the room getting ready to leave. 

“Chanyeol,” he blurts, laying aside strategic thought for sheer panic. They’re leaving him. They’re taking off without him. “What’s going on?” 

Chanyeol turns around and rushes towards the bed, smiling gently and cupping Baekhyun’s cheek. “Hey,” he whispers, probably trying not to wake him up too much. Baekhyun can’t even blink, terrified that all they need to disappear forever is a nanosecond where he’s not looking. “I’m sorry if we woke you. We found Yixing. We’re goin’ to go get him.” 

Baekhyun can hardly process anything with his mind consumed by his raging heart. “O-Okay.” He hides his rampant trembling by sitting up. He looks up at Chanyeol, in doing so catching the stares of Sehun and Kyungsoo, and takes a deep breath. “I’m coming too.” 

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” Kyungsoo immediately says in warning. He exchanges an anxious look with Sehun for backup. Sehun just smiles at Baekhyun apologetically. 

“No, no,” Chanyeol waves him off, “it’s fine. Sure, you can come.” 

As unwelcome as he feels, Baekhyun gets out of bed and changes into his clothes as fast as he can. He’s not going to give them any excuse to leave him behind. They march out the door five minutes later, Baekhyun wincing under the eyes of the gang as he strides to Chanyeol’s bike and mounts the back end of the seat. 

“Chanyeol,” Jongdae calls. His eyes hold questions that Baekhyun doesn’t understand, answered by a single look from Chanyeol that somehow placates his interest. He digs his nails into Chanyeol’s waist when they set off, terrified and wanting to hurl himself off the bike so the tarmac can beat him up before any of the others get a chance. 

He wants to know why they’re leaving in the middle of the night, and why they all have to come along. Yixing is their friend. Meeting him at a bar would have been the sane thing to do. 

The collective roar of their engines echoes in the night, reverberating off the sky and clapping down like thunder. Suburban streetlamps flash jarringly in Baekhyun’s eyes, a sharp succession of blinding light that forces everything else into a dark blur. He has no idea where they’re going. A warehouse, maybe. Or, a hotel. Whatever it is, it feels an eternity away. The two sides within him war over whether it was a good idea to come. He presses his hands into Chanyeol’s hips and feels his heart turn to ice, his palm moulding around something hard in Chanyeol’s belt, not a phone or a pack of cigarettes. His forehead collapses into Chanyeol’s back, the lone sob he lets loose lost to the wind. He’s scared for his life, for his sanity. These people are not who they proclaimed to be. 

Eventually, they come to a stop. 

“Yixing is close,” Baekhyun hears Jongdae say before he opens his eyes. When he blinks his vision clear and adjusts his sight to the dark, the normalcy that greets him is alien. There are mailboxes, wheelie bins, bikes on driveways and children’s’ toys left out on front lawns. It’s just an average street in an average town, wherever they are. 

“Stay here,” Chanyeol says to him as he dismounts, kicking out the bike stand. 

Too terrified to move, Baekhyun stares blankly at him. He works on speaking an agreement, churning the gears in his head, but it all unwinds when every one of them, Chanyeol included, pulls out a gun. 

“Chanyeol,” he hisses, voice barely a whistle as he forces his energy into stumbling off the bike. “What’s going on? Why do you all need guns?” 

Chanyeol stares at him like he’s been caught red-handed. Over his shoulder, Jongdae rolls his eyes and shakes his head, frustratedly glaring at the two of them. Baekhyun shrinks beneath him, feeling smaller than ever. 

“Um,” Chanyeol grunts, looking at his gun like it’s nothing more than a juice box. “Yixing’s being held hostage so we need to break him free.” 

Baekhyun mouth falls open, speechless. “Chanyeol,” he gasps, eyes blinded with pictures of Chanyeol getting caught in the crossfire. There are families living on this street too, vulnerable children who could get shot in their beds if a misfired bullet goes crashing through their window. “This isn’t safe,” he pleads, voice gaining volume but not strength. “We—We need to call the police.” He looks around desperately at the other seven of them, begging them to see reason. “You can’t do this! People could get hurt. Please, don’t go.” 

He grabs onto Chanyeol, body falling into him like capsizing timber. “Chanyeol,” he pleads. “Chanyeol, please stay. Please. I beg you.” 

“Chanyeol, we need to move,” Jongdae growls. “Put your boy down and let’s go.” 

Chanyeol’s arms come around him, cold and stiff. “Baekhyun, baby.” 

His rage bubbles out from within, his quaking hands forming fists that punch into Chanyeol’s chest and drive him away. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” he screams. If he’s loud enough, hopefully someone will call the police. “None of this is normal! Who even are you? You have guns and you beat people up and you intimidate them to get your own way. Who even is Yixing, huh? Are you guys even friends? Do you even _know_ him?” he roars, wishing he had something he could throw. “You bastards!” he yells, voice cracking like splintering wood. “You lied to me! All of you!” He turns to Chanyeol and wails, tears dripping from his jawline. “Even you,” he cries, his own emotions strangling him. 

Bangs pierce the air. Baekhyun whips around to see a group of men evacuating a house several doors down, all of them throwing what look like suitcases into a black van. 

“ _Fuck_!” Jongdae shouts, immediately racing towards them with his gun pointed to fire, Jongin on his tail and Kyungsoo his right flank. Sehun and Junmyeon start firing, taking cover behind cars and pulling out extra ammunition for when they run dry. With every bullet that breaks free, Baekhyun’s bones rattle. He tries to call Chanyeol’s name but loses all strength when he realises Chanyeol isn’t near him anymore. He’s hiding behind his bike, jumping out to shoot over the seat every few beats before ducking down again. 

“Baekhyun, hide!” Chanyeol shouts, waving frantically at him to join him. “Come here, Baekhyun! Here!” 

Baekhyun stands there in shock in the midst of a shootout, two parties firing endless rounds of bullets at one another before they can get away. It must be Yixing, but not the Yixing they all said he was. Baekhyun was tricked, brought along to enable criminal activity he was too lovesick to comprehend. 

Tyres screech. More bangs follow. They’ve made it into their van and are getting away, now firing from their rolled down windows. The intensity of the sound knocks the air straight out of Baekhyun. He stumbles, knees weak, and collapses to the ground with a hard thud, limbs strewn around and senses muddled up. The back of his head smacks into the concrete and he groans, something hot and thick running down his arm. 

Someone screams his name. Footsteps vibrate the earth beneath his body, thunderous until they stop just shy of him. Chanyeol’s knees buckle and he grabs hold of him, Baekhyun watching in a daze wondering what’s wrong. Then, the pain hits. 

“ _Oh god, oh god, oh god_ ,” Chanyeol whines, tear-stricken, face mangled. 

Baekhyun cries out, feeling like someone has driven a white-hot poker through his arm. It hurts so profoundly that he can’t see and can barely hear, blood gurgling in his ears while it pours from his bullet wound, not quite loud enough to drown out the sound of Chanyeol’s frantic shouting. What he says is indecipherable, nothing but nonsense. But Baekhyun can feel the emotion behind it, the dread and the terror. Chanyeol must have felt something for him, even if that something wasn’t enough. 

“Chanyeol,” he manages to say, his good arm reaching out for him in desperation. A horrible voice in the back of his mind tells him that he’s going to die. Even if it’s not true, Baekhyun forgives Chanyeol in a heartbeat. He loves him. If he is an idiot for it, so be it. 

Droopy, Baekhyun can feel himself being sucked under. The pain lessens in tandem with the decline of his waking consciousness. Eventually, all that is left in the pitch black is Chanyeol hysterically screaming his name, voice morphing into one of less distress, lower pitch, and with a more gravelly texture. 

Baekhyun jerks, sucked out of one world and sent flailing into another. His eyes snap open, then squint at the bright light that gradually fades to show the highway interchange through the window. His fingers have wrinkled from holding his soapy cloth for too long, his lower back aching because he hasn’t sat down in hours. The diner is mostly empty, only a couple of kids studying in the corner and a lone man drinking coffee at the end of the breakfast bar. Baekhyun hangs his head. He got lost in it again. 

He looks up at the wall, watching the clock. Seconds pass, and he just stands there wasting them. He wipes down the counter, then washes his hands of soap in the kitchen. Krager grumbles at him about the napkins needing to be refilled and Baekhyun heads out front again, starting work on general maintenance and taking orders when the odd customer comes in. He can feel his mind slipping, tumbling into the dark place it always goes to after he runs through what happened. 

Each time he wishes for things to go differently. It never does. Whenever he watches it all in his head, it always ends with him in hospital with stitches for a bullet graze, being told that his medical bills have been paid for and then weeping when he tells the staff he has no one he can call. 

Trying not to think about it doesn’t help. It just makes it worse. _Just make it through today_ becomes his mentality. When he gets home, he can cry, scream, do anything he wants. For now, he has to work just to be able to afford that home and afford the life that only gives him grief. He looks in the mirror when he hides in the toilet for his break. It’s a grim picture. 

Weeks pass. He gradually improves. He throws himself into work as much as he can, until his arm seizes up and he can’t lift things anymore. He is well and truly stuck, and will never become unstuck again. 

The door to the diner swings open, a group of kids from the nearby school coming in ready to study for the afternoon. Baekhyun has no idea why they choose to hang out here of all places but takes their orders with a smile and asks them how lessons are going. He finds it amusing how some of them are so enthusiastic about learning and others absolutely can’t stand it. He tries to help with some of their maths equations when he brings them their drinks, and manages to sneak them free cookies when Krager isn’t looking. He tries to accept that there are always things to be happy about, even if they’re only small. Today, it’s the smiles on the kids’ faces. With some luck, this alone will get Baekhyun through the rest of the week. 

Someone taps Baekhyun on the shoulder and he turns with his pleasant, customer-service smile plastered on his face. He wishes people wouldn’t touch him to get his attention. A weight plummets through his body and his expression drops completely, heart pounding out ten beats a second. 

“Hey.” Baekhyun wants to punch the awkward smile off his face, then lunge and take hold of him and ever let go. “Guess who’s back in town.” 


	2. An Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what did you just read

**Hello! o(^** **▽^)o**

This is going to be an explanation of my fic ‘Circuit’ because a lot of people had questions after reading it. I figured it would be appropriate to help anyone who read it understand what was going on. I don’t know if many people care about the fic or the background things that weren’t relevant to the POV, because I don’t think many people liked it welp, but imma do so anyways.

I have been avoiding rereading this fic myself because I know that it’s terrible and I was very close to not submitting it at all. Honestly it was a big disappointment for me jdhfkjds you have my last two bae fics and then _this._ Idk what can I say. I still didn’t reread it so this explanation comes from memory, but this fic is branded on my brain atm so it should be alright.

If you want this fic to remain a mystery, don’t read this!

 

Just to explain :D

 **The title:** Baekhyun essentially goes full circuit in this fic kjsdhkjfs

 **The summary:** These are paraphrased lyrics from the song this fic is loosely based off. I modelled Chanyeol after the main singer. INXS – Need You Tonight – <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-rv2BQa2OU>. It is also the song that Chanyeol plays on the jukebox in the bar! And it's one of my favourite songs ehe~

 

 

 

 

 

These are some questions from the comments:

 

  * **Why was Chanyeol jealous of Sehun?**



Chanyeol was not jealous of Sehun, Baekhyun only thought he was. This whole fic is in Baekhyun’s POV which is why we know practically nothing about what’s going on :D

 

 _Chanyeol is quiet when he rolls over_ **(He’s quiet because of the cookie lmao)** _, bike tank filled and a chocolate chip cookie between his teeth. “Hey.” He looks at Sehun. Baekhyun senses jealousy and disguises taking a step back from Sehun as repositioning his weight_ **(Baekhyun doesn’t know the extent of their relationship and misinterprets the situation. He assumes Chanyeol would be jealous because it feels like the normal reaction, mostly because Jongdae told Baekhyun that Sehun liked him)** _. “What you guys talkin’ about?”_

_Baekhyun looks at Sehun. Sehun looks at him. “Swimming,” Baekhyun says. “Sehun’s gonna teach me.”_

_Chanyeol smiles, glancing at Sehun and rubbing his lips together with a suggestive undertone Baekhyun doesn’t miss_ **(Baekhyun catches this movement but doesn’t know what it means. Chanyeol is curious about what their developing friendship could mean)** _. “I see.” He smirks, eyes lingering on Sehun just a little too long for it to be casual_ **(Sehun is really hot okay. Chanyeol is probably picturing him without clothes on.)** _. “Anyways, bike up. We’re movin’ out.”_

 

I should probably say that Chanyeol and Sehun don’t hook up separately while Baekhyun is there, so Chanyeol is prolly hornier than normal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  * **Why did Chanyeol suggest the threesome? Why didn't Chanyeol react when Baekhyun kissed the girl?**



In this fic, Chanyeol kind of takes Baekhyun under his wing. He sees himself in Baekhyun and wants him to be able to experience things without worrying of consequences or money trouble. This is why Chanyeol pays for everything and doesn’t get mad when Baekhyun gets with other people – he even encourages it. This is kind of Chanyeol going full circle on himself, where Jongdae also rescued him from a shit situation. He wants to replicate that, even if their circumstances aren’t that great (the whole gang thing, I mean).

Chanyeol suggests the threesome with Sehun because him and Sehun used to hook up on their own before Baekhyun arrived. He wants Baekhyun to experience a threesome and I also wanted to write one I’m not sorry dsjfhjsdf. The reason why Sehun doesn’t catch feelings is because I was trying to imply that he’s aromantic. I would have been more direct about it if I’d had time to research it more. I was just afraid of misrepresenting something so I never stated it explicitly :/ This goes for Baekhyun too, who is supposed to be demisexual. Chanyeol is the first person he’s loved, so a lot of him following Chanyeol around comes from misguided affection and confusion about what a relationship is supposed to be and feel like.

So Chanyeol’s affections for Baekhyun were kind of… older brother-y? I’m not sure how to explain it. He likes and cares for Baekhyun but it’s not exclusive and he doesn’t love him. He wants to see him grow as a person and go through new things, and he wants to be there to make sure there are no negative reactions and that Baekhyun is safe. He does feel for Baekhyun though, and he finds him sweet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  * **Why did Jongdae tell Baekhyun that Sehun likes him?**



This was Jongdae’s attempt (besides Chanyeol) to tie Baekhyun to group and make him less likely to betray them or their secrets in the future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  * **Who is Yixing?**



Yixing is not their friend and never was. There’s some backstory between him and Jongdae that I couldn’t be bothered to figure out, but I knew it wasn’t necessary. The gang was never going after Yixing as a way to look out for him, but as a way to track him down and get back what he stole from them etc etc. This is why when Baekhyun asks about Yixing for the first time, there is a pause before Kyungsoo responds, and after that point that response was fed to the rest of the gang to keep the false story going in case Baekhyun asked again.

 

_Chanyeol grunts, the table his drum as he taps out a beat. “We can go somewhere nice after we find Yixing.”_

_“Yixing?” Baekhyun perks up._

_Kyungsoo stares at him, then stares at Chanyeol_ ( **Figuring out how to respond and who’s going to speak)** _. Baekhyun would think he looked worried if he wasn’t used to his eyes being so wide on the daily_ ( **Baekhyun accidentally making excuses for Kyungsoo’s real concern)** _._

_“Yeah,” Chanyeol picks up the conversation, “our friend. He’s the guy we’re tryin’ to find.”_

_“We’ve known him for years,” Kyungsoo interjects, somewhat out of the blue_ **(This is Kyungsoo not trusting Chanyeol to be believable enough, so he decides to do it himself)** _._

 

Baekhyun was also never included in ‘gang talks’ and was never around Jongdae when he was having serious conversations, like at various bars when Sehun stepped in his way and then ordered the drinks for him, and at the house when Chanyeol suggests they sit outside instead of at the dining table where everyone else is.

 

 _Jongdae is still in the middle of his standoff, having progressed to talking with the guys who have a problem with their being here_ **(This is Jongdae talking about Yixing etc.)** _. Baekhyun thinks nothing of being redirected when Sehun gets in his way. Sehun is doing him a favour_ **(Because Baekhyun doesn’t really like Jongdae, he doesn’t take the interruption as a bad, suspicious thing)** _._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  * **Was everything a dream?**



Originally, yes. It was all intended to be a dream. I struggled with the biker concept a bit after I claimed the prompt because I like to write things that are realistic, and I had no idea how to write a biker gang. There are times in the fic where I make deliberate errors to imply that it wasn’t real, but I don’t think anyone noticed, or maybe they did notice and just thought I was stupid and gave up reading jdshf. I didn’t have time to flesh out the ending with a whole narrative, so I kept the part where I skipped back to the present day. We didn’t really miss much in doing so.

 

**Chanyeol’s bike changing:**

_In the dark he can hardly see, except for the pools of light bursting from the headlamp on Chanyeol’s **Harley**. ----_ _As he straddles Chanyeol’s **Honda Fireblade** ready to leave that morning_

 

**The sun:**

_Their surroundings are serene, crystal water glittering under a sun in an orange sky as it sets in the east._ **(The sun sets in the west)**

**Constellations:**

_“You know the big dipper, right? That’s the one that looks like a pan. You see it?”_

_Baekhyun admires it quietly. “I see it.”_

_“Yeah. Five stars for the handle, four for the pan_ **(The handle only has 4 stars, sharing one of those stars with the pan)**. _Most other constellations are just zigzags. Orion and Cygnus are squiggles_ **(Because Baekhyun is daydreaming this entire thing, he cannot remember what Chanyeol said about the constellations, which is why the descriptions are so rubbish)** _.”_

 

**Sehun’s eyes:**

_Sehun chuckles, pitch low as he pulls out his sunglasses to shield his **brown eyes** from the evening sun. ----_  _He shies away from Sehun’s **grey, calculating eyes** , afraid he’ll be too easy to read._  

I realise that these clues seem like nothing compared to the word count of this story, but I genuinely thought they’d be obvious and that people would pick up on them sdfjhsdjfs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  * **Are Chanyeol's feelings something that will last?**



I think Chanyeol will always have affection for Baekhyun, and I think he will always feel guilty about dragging him into the gang mess as well – and why he’s so upset when he gets shot, because it’s technically his fault! He never really meant for things to go so wrong, but he was very naïve and stupid about it. He was the ‘kid’ of the group after all. Nevertheless, he disagrees with a lot of what Jongdae does. He doesn’t like using the gun and at the end, he left Baekhyun in bed to protect him. But because Jongdae was the one who rescued him from his own shitty life, Chanyeol feels indebted to him and has no choice but to go along with it all. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just ignorant and pretends that none of it is happening.

 

_“I want… this…” he hedges further. “To be… serious.”_

_Chanyeol’s fingers squeeze his hand. “Who says it ain’t?”_ **(Chanyeol is deflecting Baekhyun’s advances, taking advantage of his inexperienced state to avoid saying anything explicit by suggesting their ‘seriousness’ is already implied, if that makes sense?)**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  * **What does the ending mean?**



In the end, Chanyeol pays for Baekhyun’s medical bills anonymously and then they leave to escape the police. Baekhyun returns to the diner and begs for his job back, which Krager allows but with a lower wage. For Baekhyun, going back to the diner is like going home at this point. He’s been traumatised for months so this place seems pretty chill now.

When Chanyeol shows up, he does so alone. I know I didn’t make that clear in my writing jdshfjs.. This is him finally having left the gang and he’s come back to Baekhyun to apologise/see how he’s doing. I haven’t really thought about what happens after that. I do have a happy epilogue in mind but I just don’t know if it would fit. It’s an open ending for a reason – even though I hate open endings myself.

This fic was never meant to be a satisfying, wholesome, make-me-feel-warm-inside story. It was meant to be raw and realistic and full of flawed people. It’s sad that I made it seem like you can never get out of your bad life situations, but I think the moral is: don’t run off with strangers and believe that it’ll all be a dream come true :D Despite this, I do accept that this fic wasn’t very good. It was different, but not the kind of different I was striving for. (/ _ ; ) Not only is it one of my worst performing fics, I also very much dislike it! :D

 

 

 

 

 

 

Idk! It is what it is. If you read this, woah! I’m not sure if I cleared everything up but if you really want to know something else about the fic, you can always ask me. I think I might have just fallen out of touch with chanbaek, which is a weird and kinda heartbreaking thing to say… idk… we’ll see! I don’t have much time to write anymore anyways TT (-人-。)

｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡

Thank you to everyone who read Circuit and this ^^


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